Solitaire Beasts
by crassreine
Summary: "Are you lost, little one?" the man asked, his voice gentle, almost feminine. Vampire AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis

Beta: EternalAngel & Sweet Obsidian Rain (Thank you very much, to both.)

A/N: I think everyone should try to do at least one vampire story in their life. This is my attempt. I've always liked vampire stories, and I've probably been influenced to write one now by the sudden influx of other PoT vampire stories.  
Possibility of BL in later chapters.  
Any comments and criticism will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

His father was late.

He should have been there an hour ago, to pick him up from the airport.

The sun had set at the same time the plane landed on Narita Airport and Ryoma, as been told to do by his mother who had placed him on the plane to Japan, waited for his father inside the airport, in front of a shop where he always bought his soda from, and leaned on the shop's window behind his back, hands in his pockets, dark hair hanging over his eyes.

A man stopped next to him, and when he did not go inside the shop, or moved away like others that had stopped before the window, Ryoma craned his neck up to see what the man was looking at. He took an involuntary step backwards when he realized the man was looking at him, not the items on display at the window.

The stranger looked young, around the same age as Ryoma's cousin Nanako, who was attending college. He also looked like one of the boys in the poster in Nanako's room. Pretty, like a girl would be. The sand coloured hair that nearly reached to the man's shoulders intensified his feminine look with the way it framed his face.

The stranger's eyes were closed, and Ryoma frowned. He didn't trust this stranger whose smile, though gentle, felt empty and who did not show his eyes. Ryoma could always tell what a person was like from their eyes. To him, someone who didn't show their eyes was someone trying to hide something.

"Are you lost, little one?" the man asked, his voice gentle, almost feminine.

"My father is coming," Ryoma told him, the question worrying him with its implications. He'd heard too many stories about children being taken away by perverts to trust someone who would ask something like that.

The man let out a little chuckle at Ryoma's answer and his smile widened, turning nearly cheerful. He lifted a finger to his lips and opened his eyes to narrow slits, showing Ryoma a glimpse of blue. But it wasn't Ryoma's answer that amused him, "I can tell you aren't looking forward to it, from your voice. Do you often quarrel with your father?"

Ryoma huffed and turned away. Who was this man, saying things like that as if he knew him? Ryoma considered just going, leaving the man there, grinning by himself. But not knowing why, he answered. "My dad's an idiot," he said and looked at the man again to see his reaction. He was expecting him to be shocked. People were always amazed at how rude he was to his father, even after they'd met Nanjiroh.

He hadn't expected the man to chuckle warmly.

"But you are lucky," the man said, stretching a hand towards the boy. "For there is someone who would miss you would I have my way." The hand landed on Ryoma's head and stroked his hair softly. It was a good feeling, having the man's fingers brush through his hair, but Ryoma frowned, finding something wrong with what the man had said.

The stranger bent down so they were face to face, revealing his eyes, and Ryoma stepped back, seeing something in them he hadn't seen in anyone's eyes before this. Violent hunger burned in the blue orbs, and it sent a rush of terror through his mind. "And you are a temptation, boy," the man spoke, the voice smooth and caressing, wrapping around Ryoma like silk threads. "Run," the man whispered, his cheery smile transforming into a predatory grin. So transfixed was Ryoma's gaze in the man's eyes, on the horror they rouse in him, that he did not first see the fangs the man had revealed with his toothy grin.

Heeding the creature's order, Ryoma ran, not looking back.

Hours later the airport's security guard found him shivering in a stall in the men's bathroom.

He didn't tell anyone what had scared him, because he knew no one would believe it if he said he'd seen a vampire.


	2. Chapter 2

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Didn't mention this in the first chapter, and to some it might be obvious, since this is a vampire fic, but just to be on the safe side,  
Warning: Character Death.

* * *

A youth that appeared no older than twenty leaned next to an abandoned warehouse's door, drumming his fingers against his thigh, pulling on his black, spiky hair and stomping his foot restlessly. He was anxious to get going. The night was still young, but with every moment that passed, morning crept closer.

Finally he pounded his fist against the old warehouse door and yelled, "Hurry up, Viper! We don't have all night!"

"Fshuu, over here, you idiot," an irritated voice answered him, not from inside the warehouse as Momo had expected, but from an alley opposite him.

"Jeez, when'd you get there?" Momo asked. "Oi!" he shouted when, instead of answering, the other youth turned and disappeared, his movements reminding Momo of a snake. He'd almost laughed himself to hysterics when he found out the nickname he'd given his companion suited him so well.

Momo followed, his movements not as fluid as those of his companion, and even though the shadows hid him from the eyes of mortals, to any immortal being he would have looked clumsy, still too new for the abilities and power his body possessed. A young vampire still enthralled with the world that lay open before him, the beauty of the night blinding him so he forgot there ever was beauty in the light, pleasure in anything other than the blood.

His companion, Kaidoh, was older by a decade, yet he remembered. He would dream of days that had been filled with sunlight and laughter. He dreamt of peaceful days with his family, of running in the heat of summer, the sun hammering on his neck and back, the feel of sweat on his skin, of cold water running down his throat. He dreamt of watching butterflies in a field of flowers, of golden days, filled with light and life, of the snow's pure whiteness, of gripping cold and fogged breath in the cold morning air.

The night held beauty for him, but a different kind. The colours were never as bright, always dimmed by the darkness that now dwelled in his soul. Only with the blood did the world regain its splendour, the life he took gave the world a savage beauty more dazzling, than anything living eyes could have seen.

As they closed in on the city where their prey lived, voices carried to their ears. Cars travelling in the night, dogs that shouted a warning to their human masters as the two monsters passed. The part of the city they passed through was quiet in the nights; home to people that valued a tranquil life with their families, who lived according to a routine that rarely changed.

The metallic sound of keys falling to the asphalt halted the movement of the creatures, and their heads turned to the direction from where it had carried to their ears.

A young woman was kneeling on the street next to a car, searching for her keys. Despite the late hour, she did not feel fear. And why should she, in the street she had lived her whole life, where she had been born and raised, and was now raising a family of her own? She knew the street's every bump and crack, what hid in every shadow, knew every dog by its bark.

When her fingers finally closed around the keys that had slipped from her grasp she stood, a pleased smile on her lips.

The monster descended on her, and she had no time to cry out in pain or horror, when her throat was torn by savage teeth. Her once white blouse was now dark with the blood that the creature, who had taken her life, so craved for, yet was so willing to squander.

It was a kill too quick. Her neck was crushed under the eager grip of the creature that held her, the scent of the blood only increasing his lust for it, not sating it. Even when there was no longer a heart to beat the blood, the creature sucked the liquid that even when cold, filled him with rapture beyond any he had ever known.

Finally when there was nothing left, the monster laughed with his head thrown back. His violet eyes stared at the dark sky above his head in amazed wonder. It would never cease to stun him, how the world felt as if it glowed when new blood flowed through his body, filling him with warmth, life.

Spreading his hand, as if wanting to embrace the night sky and the world, he let himself fall on his back, closing his eyes.

"You killed her," a sour voice said, letting out a hiss after them.

"Relax, Kaidoh, we'll find you another one," Momo answered, laughing freely.

Kaidoh glared at him. Momo was more trouble than he was worth. Kaidoh wondered, not for the first time if he should have left when their master disappeared, gone off on his own. Solitude had more appeal to him, but there was comfort in Momo's presence. If they were ever to face someone more powerful, Kaidoh would have a better chance of surviving with Momo's help, than he would alone.

"Why are you always so brash?" Kaidoh asked. "She would have been enough for the both of us. We can't afford being detected and that's going to happen if you continue hunting them down like cattle!"

"But that's what they are! Cattle!" Momo laughed after his words.

"Show some respect! You were human once!"

"And now I'm something more!" Momo yelled and stood up. "Why are you so worried, there's no one who could stop us!"

"Idiot," Kaidoh hissed. "Didn't you listen when Tezuka-sama explained this to us? The older ones will tolerate us in their territory if we don't cause trouble. I don't want to die because you can't control your bloodlust!"

"We could take them, the two of us. We're as powerful as Tezuka-sama if we work together," Momo grinned.

"Fshuu, you really are an idiot," Kaidoh glared.

"What did you say? Why you damned-"

"Tezuka's weak! He told us that! Didn't you listen?" Kaidoh yelled, fisting his hands.

Momo blinked, surprised at Kaidoh's sudden outburst, the sliver of fear he heard in the hissing voice. He had never seen Kaidoh fear anything. "I did," he answered, not looking at Kaidoh. He shrugged. "I figured he was downplaying himself. He never bragged. And you felt his power, how could there be anything more monstrous than that?" Momo asked, jokingly, not expecting an answer other than another hiss.

Kaidoh looked away, not answering.

"Is there?!" Momo's voice was demanding now, and he walked over to the other vampire and grabbed his arm, trying to get Kaidoh to look at him. Kaidoh hissed and hit Momo in the face, sending him flying, his back hitting the car. The thump that sounded from his body colliding with the metal, echoed in the otherwise silent night.

"Don't touch me!" Kaidoh spat.

"Fine, but answer me!" Momo yelled, getting up, wiping the blood from his chin, glaring at his companion.

Kaidoh narrowed his eyes and grouched, waiting for retaliation, but when it never came and Momo just stood there, he straightened and answered, "There are. I've felt the presence of two."

"Two? And what do you mean felt? You never saw them? How come I didn't?"

"You weren't with us then," Kaidoh said. "The first one… I think Tezuka-sama feared him. We left right away when it appeared."

"What was it like?" Momo leaned forward, an eager glint in his eyes.

"Frightening," Kaidoh whispered. "It was like an immense pressure weighing you down. I felt weak, small and powerless. But that was nothing compared to the second one." Kaidoh was still whispering, his eyes not focusing on anything they saw in the present.

"The second one?" The other's fear was affecting Momo and he too was whispering and crept slowly closer to Kaidoh, feeling hunger towards the power Kaidoh so feared; the power that had scared even their master, whom Momo had believed to be invincible.

"I felt like a worm," Kaidoh spoke, his voice hushed, eyes darting from left to right, anxious, as if fearing that his words would summon the monster he spoke of. "No, even less than a worm to that one. Power so great it should have destroyed everything within a hundred yards, but it was refined. Controlled. Focused."

"And how would you know that?" Momo snorted.

Kaidoh turned back to face Momo, waking from his memories. He shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, "I just did."

Momo averted his eyes and they landed on the corpse of the woman. He kneeled next to the body, his expression turning thoughtful. He caressed the cold cheek that a few moments ago had been warm under his touch and looked at the dead eyes, staring up at the sky, an expression of horror frozen on her face. "I dated a girl that looked like her. You think it might be her?" he asked. "She left me for a guy that had a cooler car."

Kaidoh came to stand next to him. He looked at the figure that had once been a living woman, whom had once had a life, family, friends; an existence that should not have been taken so carelessly by someone who showed no respect towards it. "Well if she was, you've had your revenge now," Kaidoh said.

He was startled when Momo laughed. "Yeah!" He stood and threw the woman's body over his shoulder. "Come on, Viper! Let's go dump her at the docks."

Kaidoh gave the area one last glimpse. He spotted the woman's purse on the ground and bent down to pick it up before following Momo. If they were lucky, it would be filed as a missing person's report. They would have to start hunting in other areas soon, there had been too many disappearances here already.


	3. Chapter 3

Beta: EternalAngel  
A/N: Comments/critique much appreciated.

* * *

Echizen Ryoma didn't believe in vampires anymore.

He had convinced himself that the man he had seen when he was a kid was just another loony with fake fangs that got off scaring little kids. He didn't try to deny the fact that the man had scared him. He still had nightmares about the man, climbing through his window, attacking him at school, or when he was with his friends. He was still wary around men that had light hair, or spoke softly.

But the stranger hadn't been a vampire. Because vampires didn't exist. If a person believed in vampires, they might as well believe that babies were delivered to peoples' doorsteps by storks, or start searching for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

So when he was cornered in an alley one night, while on his way home from a friend's house, Ryoma thought them to be just normal muggers, two boys not much older then him. Ryoma threw his bag at their feet, and yelled, "My wallet's in there, all my money, my phone, it's all there!" thinking they would let him leave now, after getting what they wanted.

Neither made a move to pick up his bag and the other one, with black spiky hair, smirked. The two boys ignored his bag, and moved closer. He watched, as the one that had smirked kicked his bag, and then lifted his eyes to Ryoma's. The violent hunger in the black eyes was a familiar horror, one that always hunted Ryoma in his nightmares.

"What do you want?" Ryoma asked, his voice trembling. The spiky haired one laughed and the fangs in his mouth didn't look like they were made of plastic. "Vampires don't exist," Ryoma whispered, trying to convince him self, and took a step back.

The creatures stopped and looked at him wearily. The one with spiky hair turned to his companion and asked, "How did he know? You think he's some kind of telepath, Kaidoh? Tezuka-sama mentioned them before he left."

"Fshuu, who cares? He's going to die soon," the one addressed as Kaidoh answered. He turned to look at Ryoma, shoulders hunched. Ryoma blinked and the creature was by his side. When it lifted its gaze to Ryoma's eyes, the boy turned his head away, closing his eyes. After being confronted with the terror twice, he did not wish to see it again in the eyes of this one. But when sharp teeth sank in to his wrist Ryoma opened his eyes and screamed. With his free left hand he hit the vampire whose mouth was attached to his wrist, but the creature did not even flinch. Ryoma's punch meant nothing to the monster.

Still screaming, Ryoma tried to pull his hand free, kicked and hit, fought even when he started to feel dizzy, and still the creature continued to ignore his attempts to be freed. When his wrist was released, Ryoma tried to run, stumbling back. He didn't remember the other monster until an arm wrapped around him, and a hand covered his face, cutting off his air, not letting him breathe.

Ryoma panicked, realising he would die. He wanted to fight back, break free from the monster, but it was too strong. Like the one that had torn into Ryoma's wrist it did not even flinch as Ryoma kicked it and clawed at the hand on his face, tried to twist away from the strong grip around his waist.

Fear and shame twisted into a knot in his stomach when he felt tears on his face. He didn't want to die, not here, not now, not like this, as a whining victim. But he could not fight any longer when there was no more strength left in him, when he could not even keep his eyes open.

* * *

Momo smiled widely when his prey stopped fighting, presuming the boy had accepted that his destiny was to die tonight. He licked the skin under which the blood he so desired flowed, felt the boy's rapid pulse. He let his tongue caress the skin, for once savouring the moment before the kill. The anticipation made him shiver and he smelled the boy's fear. For a brief moment he wondered why he no longer felt the boy's hot breath on his palm, but soon forgot it, forgot everything when his teeth pierced the warm skin and the blood flowed to his mouth.

Momo was torn from his feast, his teeth ripped the fair skin and blood drenched him. "What the hell, Kaidoh?!" he yelled, lying on the ground, the other vampire hovering over him.

"You were smothering him!" Kaidoh yelled back. "He would've been dead in a few seconds. They need to breathe, you idiot!"

Momo looked back at the boy. The body lay still, unmoving, the pool of blood around him growing by the second. "Well now he's going to die anyway!" Momo sprung up and headed for Kaidoh, mouth drawn to a growl, he fisted his hand on Kaidoh's shirt and hit him. Kaidoh's head snapped back, but he soon answered with a punch to Momo's side and a kick to his feet that sent the younger vampire lying on his back. He didn't stop for an instant but grabbed some of Momo's hair in his fist, turned him around and pounded Momo's head on the ground twice, and then stood up.

"Are you done?" Kaidoh asked and spat blood from his mouth on to Momo's back.

Momo growled and raised himself up with his hands. Blood dripped from his face to the ground and when he turned his head, Kaidoh could see the damage he'd done. Momo's nose and left cheek were crushed, and the asphalt had scraped his face in to a bloody mess. He still managed to glare at Kaidoh with narrowed eyes, and Kaidoh knew that no, Momo was not done.

"Idiot," Kaidoh hissed. He had expected this to happen, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. They had never gotten along very well, not even when Tezuka had been with them. Momo's aloof attitude to everything annoyed Kaidoh, the way he refused to show respect for anything that couldn't overpower him. The only reason they had managed to coexist was because Kaidoh could throw Momo across a street if he so wanted. But lately, it seemed, Momo had grown cockier. He'd come to think Kaidoh not killing him was a sign of weakness, proof that he couldn't do it. And in a sense Momo was right. Kaidoh didn't want to kill him, because even though he despised Momo, he did not wish to exist alone. He wanted someone to be with him, even if that someone was an idiot like Momo.

Momo stood up and ran towards Kaidoh his fingers curled like the talons of a hawk, his fangs showing as he screamed.

He never reached Kaidoh.

Kaidoh stood and watched. Frozen in place he stared in horror at the hand that held Momo's heart in its fist. The fingers squeezed and red blood trickled from between the fingers, around the wrist and on to the ground. Momo coughed blood that turned black when it reached his chin. Kaidoh watched as his companion of years turned to ash and was blown away by a wind that appeared from nowhere, leaving the hand that had destroyed him unblemished by the dark substance that had mere seconds ago still been a being that spoke and felt.

Kaidoh wasn't sure if it was sadness that he felt when he watched Momo disappear. It could have simply been hatred towards him, hatred that Momo had died and left Kaidoh alone.

"You have been making a mess, leaving a trail of bodies after you. I can't have that, not where I rule," a voice purred in Kaidoh's ear and he jumped and tried to run, only to be slammed against the wall of the alley. The impact crushed his arm and he slid to the ground, lifting his eyes to the one that had spoken.

"We cleaned after ourselves, there was never more than two a night," Kaidoh spoke while observing the monster. It laughed at Kaidoh's answer, drew delicate fingers through its light hair, ice blue eyes glimmering with cold fire. Kaidoh noted a mole under the right eye and wondered if it was a fake and if it was, why a vampire would bother with something like that.

"Oh, it's real," was the answer to the question Kaidoh hadn't spoken aloud.

"Fshuu," Kaidoh hissed, startled. It could read his mind?

"Yes," it answered languidly, and smiled with the other side of its mouth turned up. "It's Atobe Keigo, the name. It bothers me when you keep referring to me as 'it'. Even a worm like you should have the honour of knowing that name before you vanish. You should feel blessed, to have gazed at my radiance in your lifetime."

Slowly, holding his right arm Kaidoh stood, leaning against the wall. "Why?" Kaidoh asked. "We have been careful," he added.

Atobe stared at him thoughtfully, lifted his fingers to his forehead and gazed at him. Kaidoh felt his gaze drawn to Atobe's eyes and could not look away, though he wanted. Something in the way Atobe looked at him made him want to crawl to a hole and hide.

"You might have been," Atobe finally spoke, lowering his hand from his face. "But your companion has not. Three, at the minimum. That is how many corpses he's left around town every night for me to clean up. I do not appreciate it, you hunting my humans."

Kaidoh cursed in his mind. He shouldn't have left Momo alone even for a moment. "He's dead now. Why should I die as well?"

Atobe shrugged. "You are here, I have not fed tonight. Why should I search for a mortal, when I can feast on your blood? I must have some compensation for having to clean after the two of you." He looked back at the body of the boy lying on the ground not far from them. Atobe frowned as his eyes landed on the boy, and he took a step towards him.

Kaidoh saw his chance and ran. He was pulled back by his hair and teeth sank in to his neck. Kaidoh's mouth opened to a silent scream, the hand he lifted in an attempt to defend himself was grasped and his arm twisted. Kaidoh did not hear the snap of the bone, the pain distracting him, the sensation of his blood being drained soon overcoming even the pain. Memories of the time this had been done to him once before came back. Of Tezuka taking his face between his hands, sliding down his collar, pressing his lips against the skin on his neck, sliding his tongue against it, slowly pressing sharp teeth to the skin, caressing his hair lovingly while drawing the blood from Kaidoh.

There had been a sweet taste in his mouth after that when Tezuka gave back the blood he had taken, giving him a sight for the world of the night, soothing words guiding him when he took his first steps in the dark path that would now be his.

There had been tears in the eyes of his master when Kaidoh had risen, licking Tezuka's blood from his lips, asking for more. Kaidoh never understood the meaning of those tears and he never saw Tezuka cry again, never asked Momo had he seen them. He wished now he had.

"How touching," Atobe mumbled, dropping the body. As soon as his hands left the body it turned black and scattered on the ground, only a pile of dust now. "You're still alive," Atobe said and turned to look at the boy, who was still breathing, even if only barely.

Golden eyes, dimmed by a shroud of pain looked at him. The boy's heart, the organ that should have sustained his life, now hurried his death with each beat, pumping blood from his body to the cold ground.

"I am impressed," Atobe said as he walked closer. "Should I kill you?" he asked, but there was no answer. The black eyelashes still fluttered, as the boy struggled to keep his eyes open, to remain conscious.

Atobe kneeled beside him, contemplating the boy. It would not be long now, before he would die. Atobe would have to take the body, get rid of it like all the others he had not killed.

At first Atobe had been only curious when those two had appeared. Years he had been left alone, no creature had been foolish enough to set foot in the city he had declared as his own. The fact that these two young ones had done so had first made him furious, and then indulgent. They were young, after all. So he had decided to watch, and wait.

It had not taken him long to see that the other had no control over his hunger. He was too blinded by his desire for blood, for the kill to focus on anything else, not even on surviving. He had only waited to see if the problem would be solved for him, if the older, Kaidoh, would get rid off his troublesome companion.

He heard human voices approaching, and stood up. "I'll leave you to your own kind then," he told the boy who could no longer hear him. "I wonder, would I have ever met you, if you hadn't crossed paths with them," he continued to voice out his thoughts. "And would you have survived me."

The voices now sounding from around the corner Atobe knew it was time to end his one sided conversation with the dying boy. He looked up and saw a latter leading up to the roof of a building on his right. With one last glance at the boy, he climbed the latter, up to the roof of the building, and wondered how people were going to explain the wounds on the boy. An animal attack or a ritualistic murder? He was looking forward to hearing from it, wondering briefly what the ramifications of the boy's death would be, and would there be any.

He did not fear that the boy's death would be linked to him, no one had seen him, and he had not inflicted any of the injuries on the boy. If the police would succeed in finding out whom the culprits had been, they would not be able to find any proof that they had been anything other than violent criminals.

But humans were not the only ones that followed the news, and Atobe was not the only one of his kind. If news of this incident became big enough, or carried to the wrong ears it would bring unwanted attention on Atobe, bring persons not wanted to his territory.

He had a past he wished to forget, but even something as small as this, could catch the attention of those he shared that past with.


	4. Chapter 4

Beta: EternalAngel

* * *

The sunlight was bright and Ryoma squinted when his mother drew the curtains aside. "Mom, close them," Ryoma rasped, his throat dry. He touched the bandaged wound on his neck with the hand that didn't ache and wondered again, how he'd managed to survive.

"The day is too beautiful for you to not enjoy it," Rinko said and smiled. "Your father will come and see you later tonight, and he will bring you something to read. Be patient darling, you'll be home tomorrow."

Ryoma groaned and leaned back on the pillows. He could just imagine what his dad's idea of reading was. It'd be something the nurses would find and scold him for, as if he could just go waltzing out of the hospital doors and buy them. It was his dad that insisted on Ryoma having a stack of perverted magazines in his room that Ryoma regularly burnt each month, and after a brief mourning period, Nanjiroh would then replace with other, similar magazines. It was a tradition they'd had ever since Ryoma turned thirteen. He would never forget the Christmas morning he opened a present wrapped in bright red paper and saw a pair of large breasts staring at him.

"Try not to fight with him, Ryoma," Rinko said and bent down to hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"It's not me that needs to try, mom," Ryoma muttered.

Rinko placed her palm on Ryoma's cheek and smiled, her eyes worried suddenly. "Are you sure you're alright? Would you like to talk to someone? What happened might have brought memories up."

"Che, I'm fine mom," Ryoma huffed and pushed the hand away. "I'm fine. That happened years ago, I'm over it!"

"Are you? Really?" Rinko pressed. "The nurses told me you've been having nightmares."

Ryoma scowled and looked away. "I didn't know the nurses moonlighted as snitches," he muttered.

"We're just worried for you, Ryoma," Rinko said and bent down to kiss him again and ruffled his hair. "Don't pout. It looks cute, and I know how you hate being called that." She smiled one last time and left her pouting son.

"I'm _not_ cute," Ryoma mumbled and scowled. He frowned when a passing nurse giggled at seeing him. "Aren't there any professionals working in this hospital?" Ryoma yelled after her and someone closed the door for him.

Alone now, Ryoma sighed and closed his eyes. He opened them almost immediately when he saw the blood drenched face of the spiky haired monster turning to ash. The death of the monsters had scared Ryoma more than their attack. The one that had caused their deaths scared Ryoma, as much as the man at the airport, years ago, had.

And both had chosen to spare him. He was alive now, not because of his own actions, but because two monsters had decided not to kill him. "Fuck you both," Ryoma hissed. He hadn't asked to be spared, treated like a helpless victim. It infuriated him that both had considered him so weak. He hated himself even more for the reason that even now, after years he couldn't shake the fear that the stranger had made him feel. The man had not even touched him, and it was the memory of his eyes that woke Ryoma screaming in the middle of the night, not the memory of sharp teeth sinking into his wrist or the hand covering his face, suffocating him.

How was he supposed to go on like this, knowing there existed beings that possessed power like that? He would never be able to live freely now, knowing what he knew, that he would always be weak, nothing more than a hunted animal to those that saw fit to view him as such.

"Echizen-san." The door opened and a man stepped inside. He wore thick glasses that hid his eyes and had spiky black hair, much like the one that Ryoma remembered on the other that had attacked him. "My name is Inui Sadaharu and this is my partner Oishi Shuichiro. We are with the police and would like to ask you a few questions." The man showed his badge when he was standing next to Ryoma's bed and after looking at it a few moments, trying to look like he knew what a police badge looked like, Ryoma nodded.

"We understand it has been a trying experience for you, but we would like you to go over the night that your attack happened in detail, please, so we may catch the culprits," Inui said and took out a notebook from his breast pocket.

Ryoma nearly snorted and told them they were dead already, there was no point, but stopped himself. The men wouldn't believe him, there was no point in making them think he was insane by telling them he'd been attacked by vampires. "Sure," he said.

"Would you like some water, Echizen-san?" the other man, Oishi asked.

"Yeah, thanks," Ryoma answered and a glass of water was placed on his hand with a reassuring smile. Ryoma stared at the glass he held, and wondered what he could say safely. Finally, he decided to tell the truth up until the moment he had lost consciousness. The doctors had already told him that the wound in his arm appeared to have been made by fangs, but not from any animal.

Ryoma suspected the police would blame it on some gang members or occultists like his father. "There were two of them," he started. "The other one was big, muscular. Hair like yours, Inui-san. I don't mean the other one was small, or weak, he just wasn't as muscular as the other one. I think he was called Kaidoh. The smaller one, that is. I never heard the bigger one's name."

"And how did you become to acquire this information?" Inui wrote while he spoke.

"He said, _'How did he know Kaidoh? Do you think he's-'_"

"He's what, Echizen-san?" Inui asked.

"I don't know," Ryoma said and looked away. He couldn't believe he'd almost said it out loud.

"And what did you know, Echizen-san? That might be helpful to our investigation."

"I don't know," Ryoma said. "Look, I don't remember much! I was scared! I'm not proud of it, but I was! They didn't even want my money, just wanted to kill me!" The panic in his voice was real, and Oishi was shaken by his fear stricken face, but Inui was not so easily affected.

"I am convinced you know, Echizen-san, but remain silent because you wish to protect someone," Inui said, putting something down on his notebook. "But please, go on. What happened then?"

"What happened then?" Ryoma asked, growling. "What the hell do you think happened then!" Ryoma yelled, waving his arms. The water in the glass he was holding spilled on to the covers, on his lap and Ryoma cursed, throwing it aside. "They tried to kill me, that's what the fuck happened next!"

"But they were not successful. I wonder what could have scared them off," Inui mused.

"I don't fucking care, I'm just happy to be alive! If I ever meet the bastard, I'll kiss him!" he yelled and stormed out off the room, his hospital gown flopping behind him, revealing very trimmed buttocks and thighs that did not escape Inui's notice.

"What do you think, Inui?" Oishi asked.

"That he's an active athlete with a respectable training schedule," Inui responded and when Oishi splattered, added, "Also, he's not telling us everything. You heard him. If he ever meets the bastard, he'll kiss _him._"

"You can't make a hypothesis based on just that!" Oishi resisted. "It doesn't necessarily mean anything! Just a generalization!"

"I don't think it was," Inui said. "If you note I said what, not _who_ could have scared them off. Yet the boy straight away jumped to a person."

"That still doesn't prove anything. And what reason could he have to lie?" Oishi demanded to know, taking the boy's side.

"Gratitude," Inui responded. "Whoever it was, they saved the boy's life."

"Well, even if you're right, which I'm not saying you are!" Oishi shouted when a pleased smile began to stretch his partner's lips, "He doesn't seem very gratified. He called him a bastard."

"For all we know that might be what he is-"

"Inui!"

"I was not done, Oishi." Inui said. "We can not be certain that the suspect was not born out of wedlock."

"Suspect?"

"I believe the two persons that attacked young Echizen are dead."

"Oh my."

* * *

Ryoma ran through the hospital's corridor's, bumping into people. He didn't stop when people yelled after him, he could hardly see anything. He sniffed, trying to pretend he wasn't crying and tripped on something on the floor. He landed on his bandaged wrist and grimaced, but stood up and ran more, ignoring the pain radiating from the wrist. He felt something moist on the bandages, and knew the wound had opened again. The nurses had told him to be careful with it, the scars were still fresh and if the wounds would re-open they might get infected.

Ryoma knew he should have searched for a doctor or a nurse to look at his wrist, but didn't stop. He found a door to the staircase, opened it and ran down. He finally reached the ground level and opened a door that read 'EXIT'. And stopped, his fingers on the door handle, one foot outside, the other still on the floor of the staircase.

The sun had set. It was dark in the alley where the exit led. There wasn't even a single street lamp illuminating the area.

Ryoma stood there, shaking. "Shit," he whispered, his teeth clattering. "Fuck," he hissed, when tears flowed down his face and his feet gave out under him. He lost his grip in the door and fell on his knees. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeated the word like it was a prayer, drawing his knees to his chest, swaying from side to side, willing himself to stop being so fucking afraid.

* * *

Ryoma finally climbed back up to his room and was relieved when he found it empty, except for a stack of magazines on the table next to his bed. He didn't even bother checking them, knowing his dad had been there.

"Echizen-kun, where have you been?" a nurse came into the room. "Your father came and wondered where you are, the whole ward has been looking for you!" She came to herd him towards the bed.

"Can you get rid of those?" Ryoma asked, pointing at the magazines.

"Hmm?" she asked, and took the magazines. Her eyebrows rose and her mouth drew to a thin line. "I most certainly will. You go back to bed, your father will be coming back any minute now, I expect." She pulled the blanket over Ryoma when he climbed on the bed and ruffled his hair affectionately before heading out off the room with the magazines.

Ryoma leaned against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. He didn't want to close his eyes and sleep, even if he was tired. He'd woken in this room two nights ago, his parents by his bed. There hadn't been a single peaceful night after that, every single one of them had been filled with blue eyes that chased him through darkness.

"Kid! What do you think you're doing, disappearing like that, giving your old man a heart attack!" His dad charged in to the room. "Be grateful your mother wasn't here!"

"The cops were here," Ryoma told him.

"What?" Nanjiroh said. "They talked to you when your mother or I weren't here?"

"Yeah."

"They had no right to talk to you without either of us being there," Nanjiroh took a chair and drew it by his bed and sat down. "What did they say, anyway? Do they know who did it yet?"

"No, they wanted me to tell them," Ryoma said.

"The cops really are mada mada-"

"Dane," Ryoma finished for his father and they shared a rare moment of understanding between father and son.

"You remember their names?" Nanjiroh asked.

"Inui, something. I don't remember what the other one was called, except he had a head that was shaped like an egg."

"An egg head as a cop, eh? Well, shouldn't be too hard to find them. Besides, I'm sure they'll be in contact with me or your mom soon," Nanjiroh said.

"Echizen-san, visiting hours have ended. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the nurse that had tucked Ryoma in, told them from the door.

"Alright, I'm leaving," Nanjiroh waved at her and she left. "Psst, kid, I know they took the magazines I left earlier, so I brought you some extra," Nanjiroh chuckled as he gave Ryoma a new stack of magazines.

Ryoma stared at the magazines and sighed. "Thanks dad," he said.

Nanjiroh poked him on the shoulder. "Are you high on drugs?" he asked.

"No!" Ryoma yelled and smacked his dad over the head with the magazines.

"That's my boy!" Nanjiroh grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Your mom and I'll be back tomorrow to get you home, so don't get too fond of the food here!"

"Who would?" Ryoma muttered.

"Ryoma, what happened to your wrist?" Nanjiroh asked.

Ryoma looked at his wrist and noticed the bandage had gotten soaked with blood. "I fell on it," he said.

"I'll get the nurse," Nanjiroh told him. "Just be careful, kid. We don't want them to keep you here any longer then they have to," he said, before going.

* * *

Ryoma woke to the pain. His head was pounding, and his wrist was aching again. He wondered if he should call the nurse. But they wouldn't give him anymore drugs. They hadn't in any of the nights Ryoma had woken up screaming. At least it hadn't been the nightmares that woke him this time. He was grateful for the pain, taking him away from the horrors of his dreams. He'd dreamt of the man at the airport again.

The curtains on his window were still drawn, and the light of the street lamps outside shone on his face. He turned and stared at the white wall he was now facing. But the yellow light, together with the tree branch that moved in the wind, made the shadows dance on the wall, making his headache worse.

He got up and walked to the window, the floor cold under his bare feet. He lifted his hand to the curtain and hesitated. Should he look outside? What if he saw one of them there? The monster could've followed him, wanting to finish what it had started. Maybe it was just waiting to see if he would look out to the street. What if it'd been there the whole night, the hunger in his soul hidden by the closed eyelids as it stared at the window of his room. It would come when he would look, with that gentle smile on its lips, slowly widening to a grin, baring its fangs. It would speak again with that caressing voice and whisper horrors to his ears.

It was still the stranger that Ryoma feared. Not the ones that had attacked him; or the one that had slain them. The memory of the stranger still made him tremble in the night when he woke alone, the knowledge that it really had been a monster, not a man that he'd spoken with, brought back the terror he'd thought to have overcome.

Ryoma trembled and pulled on the curtain, trying to draw it over the window, not wanting to confirm his fears. He pulled too hard and it came down with a small rattle, and he stumbled back, heart thumping, still clutching the curtain. He couldn't tear his eyes from the window, waiting for something to appear on it. A part of him wanted something to appear. If the monster would come to kill him, at least it would be over now. He wouldn't have to live with this fear.

And he was sick of it, being afraid of the dark, of every creak he heard, of what laid in the shadows. The worst part was he never knew if there was anything. If all he feared were the shadows and the wind.

* * *

A/N: Yup, no un-dead creatures in this chapter. There'll be in the next one.


	5. Chapter 5

Beta: EternalAngel  
A/N: A special thank you to Aryn-kitten for reminding of something that's importance in Ryoma's life should not be forgotten:  
Ponta.

Comments and criticism are much appreciated.

* * *

The car stopped before his home, and Ryoma smiled for what felt like years. The sterile hospital with its tasteless food, and friendly, sometimes annoyingly so, nurses had felt more like a prison, than a place for healing. He hoped that at home, sleeping in his own bed with Karupin, the nightmares wouldn't haunt him.

"I called the police station," his father started the conversation when they were sitting at dinner, Ryoma with his cat, Karupin on his lap, and a can of Ponta next to his plate. Usually his mother didn't allow it, him holding Karupin, or drinking anything other than milk during dinner, but today she was willing to bend the rules for Ryoma's happiness. "They're sending someone over."

"Nanjiroh, why didn't you tell me?" Rinko wanted to know.

"I just did!" Nanjiroh answered, screaming, and waving his arms dramatically before his wife's glare. "Anyway, they just want to talk to you again, kid, now that you're over the shock, and everything," he told Ryoma and stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth.

"I already talked to them at the hospital!" Ryoma shouted, panicking. "I don't want to talk to them again, I already told them everything I remember!" Ryoma stood up and Karupin jumped from his lap.

"Ryoma, calm down," Rinko tried to assure him when the door bell rang. They all turned to look at the hall.

"I'm not talking to them," Ryoma said, picked up Karupin and headed upstairs, to his room.

"Ryoma!"

"Let the kid go, Rinko, he'll cool down in a day or two," Ryoma heard his father say before he was in his room, the door closed. He stood in the middle of the room, clutching Karupin. The cat struggled, not happy being held so tightly, and startled, Ryoma let go. He hadn't meant to hurt Karupin.

Ryoma went to his window, but couldn't see the front of the house from his room, so he didn't know if they were still there. He didn't even know if they were the same people that had come to see him at the hospital. If they had been some other people, Ryoma might have agreed to see them. Even if it had been only the one with the egg head, Ryoma might have agreed to see him. But he didn't want to see Inui.

Something about him, in the cold way Inui acted, made Ryoma nervous. He was afraid that if he talked to Inui, he would let things slip. And if he told Inui everything he knew, the man would tell them to his parents. If Ryoma started speaking about vampires again, he was afraid his parents would lock him up somewhere.

They'd almost done it five years ago. He'd held on to his story, claiming the man he had seen at the airport was a vampire for so long, they'd finally sent him to see someone. The woman asked him a lot of questions, not just about the man at the airport, but did he see a lot of things others didn't, did he sense things, hear what others thought.

He'd eavesdropped on her and his parents once, after one of his sessions. Ryoma had been in the waiting room and listened, his ear pressed on the door. _"The child's insistence in believing the man he encountered was a vampire worries me. If it does not desist, it might be a good idea to take him in the hospital for a short time, so we can keep a closer eye on him," _she'd told them with a soft voice.

"_Is that really necessary?" _he'd heard his mother's voice ask.

"_I'll see him a few more weeks, and we'll see how it goes,"_ she'd told them.

So Ryoma had listened to the woman and her explanations that sounded reasonable. The stranger hadn't been a vampire, because vampires didn't exist. The only reason Ryoma thought so, was because he had been scared, and not willing to believe a human could be so terrifying, he had turned the stranger into a supernatural being, someone not human.

He wondered now if he'd ever really believed it. If he'd only made himself believe it so he wouldn't be locked up.

"Ryoma?" his mother called from behind the closed door.

"I'm not talking to them!" Ryoma yelled. "I told them everything!"

"I know honey," Rinko said. "They left, so won't you open the door?"

Ryoma hesitated, but finally opened the door, half expecting to see the cops in the corridor behind his mother, or huge male nurses ready to take him to the asylum. Instead all he saw was his mother, holding the phone.

"It's Kachirou. He would like to talk to you," she said, holding the phone out for him.

Ryoma took the phone. "Thanks mom," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Rinko brushed her hand on his head. "Bring the phone down when you're done, alright?"

"Okay," Ryoma said and watched his mother go downstairs. When alone, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Hi Ryoma-kun! Are you alright now? They wouldn't let us come see you at the hospital." Kachirou's cheery voice summoned the image of his friend to his mind. Kachirou was part of the school's tennis team just like Ryoma. He and a few other boys Ryoma knew had been on the same class and on the tennis team ever since Ryoma moved to Japan with his family five years ago.

"I'm fine, but I can't play tennis for a while," Ryoma told him.

"That's so like you, Ryoma-kun, to think about tennis when you're hurt," Kachirou chuckled on the phone. "The captain's gonna be crushed, but I think we can pull through until you recover. Any idea how long?"

"A week, probably," Ryoma said.

"Well that's not too long. You think your mom would let you come over?" Kachirou asked.

"Why?"

"Well, everyone's coming, and my parents are out of town for the weekend. Horio's trying to get some girls to come, but since it's Horio, that's probably not going to happen, so Katsuo asked Tomoka if she'd ask some of her friends. You know, Ryuzaki-chan's coming."

Ryoma gulped. "So?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"She's been real worried about you," Kachirou added in a sly voice.

"Whatever," Ryoma muttered.

"So, you gonna come?" Kachirou asked.

"I'm coming, bye," Ryoma said and hung up.

He'd met Ryuzaki Sakuno the same way he'd met his other friends. She'd been at the same class with them, and with her friend Tomoka she'd followed the boy's tennis team when they competed in different tournaments during junior high. Ryoma never thought of her as anything more than another friend.

Or at least he hadn't until Kachirou one day said, _"She's pretty, isn't she?"_

Ryoma had shrugged, not really knowing what to say. He'd looked at Sakuno, her long hair and big eyes and thought, yes, she was. Not just pretty. Beautiful. Ryoma could easily imagine holding her hand, kissing her.

* * *

"Mom, I'm going to Kachirou's!" Ryoma yelled, running down the stairs.

"What? But… Are you sure honey?" Rinko came to the hall from the living room. "I thought we could've ordered some pizza, and maybe watch a movie together, have a family night."

"Let the kid go, Rinko. We can have a parents' night!" Nanjiroh shouted, appearing next to his wife and pulling her to his side.

"But… I don't want him to come home too late," Rinko protested.

"I can stay at Kachirou's for the night," Ryoma told her. He hadn't asked Kachirou, but was sure it'd be alright. He didn't want to walk home in the dark any more than Rinko wanted him to.

"Oh… Alright then, but take your phone with you. And call us when you get there!" Rinko shouted when Ryoma was already halfway out the door, pulling his jacket on.

"Fine mom!" Ryoma yelled, running already.

He caught the bus that led to the centre of the city, where he would take another one that would get him to where Kachirou lived. When he stepped out off the bus, the sun had already set and the street lights were lit. He hadn't realized it was so late already. If he had, he might not have agreed to go.

Everything looked different in the artificial light. Cold and frightening. The people that were out didn't look him in the eyes and smile, like they did when the sun was up. The darkness changed them, the way Ryoma looked at them. They weren't just people living their lives anymore. With no daylight to keep him safe, every one of them could have been a monster, in the guise of a human form. None of their faces looked familiar; they were all strangers, all with their own hidden purpose for walking the streets at night.

Someone bumped into Ryoma and he stumbled back and hit the wall of the plastic buss stop. "Watch it," Ryoma muttered, even though the culprit had already moved on. He glared after the man and his eyes landed on another one.

The man was young, in his twenties and dressed like a businessman, with a long dark over coat. His eyes met Ryoma's and the boy gasped. He recognized that face. It was a face that had looked at him with curiosity, as he'd lain in a pool of his own blood.

The man turned away, no sign on his face that he'd recognized, or even seen Ryoma.

Ryoma knew he should've turned away, taken the next bus to Kachirou's, forget he ever saw the man, and carry on with his life. But he couldn't just turn away, and leave now that he'd seen the man, had the possibility to confront the one thing that had ever really scared him, to know.

Every step he took in the man's footsteps, he felt his fear heighten, raising his heart beat, bring a cold sweat on his skin. He heard the cars around him, the people that chatted as they passed him, the ringing of a stranger's cell phone, and the laugh of a woman. He heard it all, but it did not matter like the sound of his own breath, the beat of his heart, the click of the man's shoes on the pavement mattered.

The man stopped and so did Ryoma, certain that the man had noticed him following. But the man did not turn around. He stood where he was, waiting.

A woman walked past the man, the bottom of her shopping bag ripped open, and a jar of something red, that Ryoma thought might have been jam, fell on the ground and broke, spilling its contents on her skirt. She bent down and tried to wipe it off, staining her fingers. She gasped, when the man Ryoma had been following took her hand. If he spoke, or the woman answered, Ryoma was too far to hear them.

She tried to pull her hand away from the grip, but the man brought her fingers to his lips, and licked away the substance staining them. Her eyes followed the tongues trail as it slid across her skin; she shivered when lips were pressed on her palm, flushed as the man entwined their fingers together, and her hand let go of the shredded shopping bag. When the man led her away, she did not notice the people stepping aside for them, her gaze never leaving the man.

They finally stopped, on a narrow street, so far from the shops and traffic that it did not seem like a part of the city anymore. The white lights shining on the couple gave them ethereal beauty that separated them from reality, and made Ryoma feel like an intruder, forcing himself in the dream the two shared.

The man lifted his hand to the woman's face, and she pressed her cheek against the palm, closing her eyes, trusting the man without hesitation. The man bent his head down, and Ryoma looked away. He heard the woman's breathy gasp, and her scream, that sounded like a one filled more with pleasure, than pain. And he wanted to look.

But before he could turn, a voice whispered near his ear. "You followed me knowing what I was, what would become of her." Filled with arrogance as the voice was, it did not hold a threatening tone, but a one that had Ryoma heeding to every word it spoke. "If you so desire, she will avoid that fate. I will spare her, if you offer your life for hers."

Give up his life for that woman? Why should he?

Ryoma turned his eyes back on the woman, standing where the man had left her. She woke from her daze, placed a hand on her neck, stared at the blood on her fingers, and let out a startled cry. She looked around her, lost. When her gaze found Ryoma, and the man beside the boy, she stepped towards them, mouth opening to speak the question that showed on her face. But another second passed, her gaze returned to the man, and her eyes widened with fear. "You," she whispered. "What are you?" she screamed, her voice trembling with terror.

"Choose," the man spoke again, his lips almost touching skin.

The woman turned to Ryoma. "Run! Get help! He's a monster!" she cried, her voice shrieking.

"Answer or you will both die tonight," the man's voice lowered, turned threatening. "Will you save her?"

Ryoma parted his lips, but could not speak, did not want to answer. Was her life worth more than his, was he worth anything for even considering it?

At the end, all he could do was shake his head. He did not want to die, could not agree to give his life, even if that meant sacrificing someone else.

The man was by the woman in an instant, taking her arms. "Please, I don't want to die," she pleaded.

The man smiled gently, his face softening, calming the woman. While the terror still stayed on her face, she did not move, or cry anymore. When her arms were released, she did not run. When the man extended his hand, she took it, still shaking, eyes wide, and mouth trembling.

The man pulled her in his caress, pressed his mouth on her neck, and her lips parted to let out a scream that never came. Her hands clasped on the man's shoulders, and her fingers turned white as she squeezed harder, holding onto the man. Her gaze sought Ryoma's, and the boy could not look away from the accusation he saw in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Ryoma whispered, knowing she wouldn't hear, and even if she could, would never forgive him.

The woman's eyes fluttered close, she let out a sound that could have been a word, a name even, but what ever she felt, be it pain or pleasure made it come out as a sharp cry. She pulled her body tighter against the monster holding her, arched her back.

She smiled, and the smile remained on her lips even after death.

The man placed a kiss on her forehead, and set her body on the ground with care. He looked up, the passive face changing when he locked eyes with Ryoma. The smile now adorning his face was different from the one he had given the woman. It was only a half of a smile, cruel and arrogant, amused.

The man took a step towards the boy, and Ryoma took one back. Another step and Ryoma turned. He ran, the fear making his feet move faster, making it impossible for him to see what was in front of him, where he was going.

"Echizen-san!" someone shouted and he twisted around, tripped and fell, squeezing his eyes shut.

When hands landed on his shoulders Ryoma screamed, "No!"

"Echizen-san," the same voice spoke his name again, and Ryoma suddenly remembered where he had heard it before.

He turned around, and recognized the man as one of the police, that had come to speak to him at the hospital. He didn't remember the name, but the worried expression was the same. "Are you alright, Echizen-san? Do you remember me? I'm Oishi Syuichirou, we met at the hospital yesterday."

"Che, of course I remember you. I wasn't hit on the head," Ryoma snapped and stood up, hoping Oishi didn't notice he was shaking.

"What were you running from, Echizen-san?" Ryoma hadn't notice Inui standing behind Oishi. He glared and looked around, wondering if he could loose the two if he ran. Inui seemed to sense his intention and tensed.

"Just felt like running," Ryoma shrugged. "I'm late."

"Hmm, you seemed scared," Inui said and took out a notebook from his breast pocket. "You are lying."

"You can't prove that! And why are you following me?" Ryoma demanded to know. Anger, he discovered, was a good way to get rid of his fear.

"Oh, we just happened to be around the neighbourhood," Oishi said, waving his arms.

"Don't bother Oishi. He doesn't believe you," Inui said. "Protecting the witness is what we call it."

"The witness?" Ryoma asked.

"I believe you witnessed the murder of the two young men that attacked you."

"You mean the ones that tried to kill me," Ryoma corrected him.

"Very well, the two young men that attempted to kill you," Inui said. "Still, that does not change the fact that you are protecting a murderer. You should do your duty and expose his identity, to prevent further murders from taking place."

Ryoma wasn't going to tell them it was too late. And he was just as guilty as the monster. It had given him a choice, a chance to save the woman. Ryoma could've done something, yelled, attacked the man, anything. Instead he'd just stood there, and watched.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ryoma said.

"I understand you may feel indebted to this man for saving your life, but he may come after you, once he realises you are still alive," Inui opened his notebook and took out a pen, preparing to write down what ever Ryoma would say. "Tell us what you know, and we will protect you from him."

"You can't," Ryoma said.

"Echizen-san, I promise, we will have our best men protecting you," Oishi said and clasped the boy's shoulder in a comforting grip.

"You can't because I don't know anything! I didn't see anything! Now leave me alone!" Ryoma screamed, shrugged Oishi's hand off, and walked away from them.

"He is lying," Inui said.

"So he knows who the murderer is?" Oishi asked.

"Yes. And he does not believe we can protect him." After adding a few lines to his notebook, Inui put it back in his pocket.

"You still haven't told me how come you're so convinced, that those two were murdered?" Oishi asked. "I know we've identified them, and no one's been able to locate them, but those things don't mean they're dead. They've been wanted for a long time, and have always been able to avoid being captured."

"Simply because there have been no sightings of them after that night," Inui said. "Prior to that, even if they were never taken in to custody, there has always been reports of them been sighted in some part of the city, alone or together. But not a single thing after that boy was attacked."

"That does seem like a logical assumption, then," Oishi agreed. "But is it really alright to not have more people protecting Echizen-san? If what you think is right, then wouldn't the murderer go after him, sooner or later?"

"The chief isn't prepared to waste more manpower on this, if my hunch turns out to be wrong," Inui said. "We shall have to do our best together, Oishi."

Oishi sighed and nodded. "I really hope this will turn out okay," he said. "He seems like a nice kid."

* * *

Ryoma finally made it to Kachirou's. The house had two stories and a big garden in the back. The garden was big enough for them to play soccer, but not even enough for them to play tennis.

That was the reason Ryoma didn't like hanging out with his friends on holidays. Unless they wanted to play doubles, or pay huge sums to get in to a private club, the only place they could play tennis, was at Ryoma's house. And unfortunately, Ryoma couldn't lock his dad in the basement while his friends were visiting.

Ryoma rang the doorbell, waiting for Kachirou to let him in. Instead Sakuno opened the door.

"Ryoma-kun," she greeted him. Sakuno smiled shyly and averted her gaze when Ryoma answered her smile. She'd always been like that, for as long as Ryoma remembered. Always shy.

Her hair was long and straight. Ryoma was sure he'd never seen it without the braids before. She had a pink butterfly clip, keeping the hair from her face. It was the kind Ryoma had seen little girls wear, but it suited Sakuno.

"I was glad to hear you got out of the hospital, Ryoma-kun. Are you alright now?" Sakuno asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Ryoma mumbled, and wondered if he repeated it to enough people, he'd believe it. "Didn't think you'd be here already."

"We've been here for an hour already." She smiled again, but didn't look away, and Ryoma felt he should say something, not just smile back at her.

"Is that Echizen? Did he bring the beer?" Horio screamed from inside the house, saving Ryoma from having to think of something to say.

"You brought beer, Ryoma-kun? I don't think I can drink," Sakuno said.

"I didn't. Horio's just being an ass," Ryoma said. "It's his turn to get the drinks," he added and Sakuno chuckled.

* * *

Atobe watched the boy speak with the girl, from across the street.

He knew the game he'd begun with the boy was foolish, and dangerous. Letting the boy watch him kill, letting him go. It wasn't like him, to be so reckless. Killing the boy would have been safer. He would talk eventually, tell the two men following him even now, who he had seen. He was still innocent, after all, a victim.

Atobe watched them, the two police men Inui and Oishi, take their positions near the house. The mind of the other one, Oishi, was easy for him to read. He was open, empathic, caring. He worried for the boy, for the world. Seeing other people sad and miserable hurt him as if the pain they felt was his own.

Inui was different. His mind was filled with cold logic, numbers and percentages. He would protect the boy as passionately as the other one, but only because it was what was required of him. If the boy would ever turn out to be something other than a victim, he would not hesitate to catch and punish him.

He reminded Atobe of another he had known once, that cold, logical mind. But even that logic had faltered before human emotions that should have been void from the soul of a monster, such as them. Atobe wondered briefly, if the same would ever happen to this one.

But he had no time, or desire to begin another game with that mortal. There was more amusement to be gained from the boy, who had chosen his own life over that of an innocent woman. His answer had shocked, than amused Atobe. He had expected the boy to answer otherwise.

"What will you do now, Echizen Ryoma?" Atobe asked in a soft voice, knowing it was too silent to carry to anyone's ears. Still the boy turned to look in the direction where he stood, and frowned. "This will be interesting." Atobe smiled, seeing the boy's reaction.


	6. Chapter 6

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: All comments and critique will be happily accepted.

* * *

Ryoma met Sakuno the next day in the park near her house. The wind tossed her long hair, and she had to gather it in her hand to keep it from hitting her face. With her other hand she waved at Ryoma, smiling cheerfully.

Ryoma felt uncomfortable walking towards her and wondered what had made him ask her out yesterday. Maybe it had just been the way she smiled. The pure innocence behind it, and how it made Ryoma forget everything dark and terrible.

Their families had always tried to push them together ever since Ryoma came to live in Japan. Her grandmother had been Ryoma's father's tennis coach when he'd been in junior high. When Ryoma had gone to the same school his father had, she had been his coach too, for the three years Ryoma's junior high had lasted.

Sakuno played tennis then, mostly because of her grandmother. She was never very good and back then, all Ryoma's interest had been in tennis, so he hadn't paid much attention to her. Not even when she appeared at every one of his games with her friend Tomoka, to cheer for him.

"Hello, Ryoma-kun," she still spoke in a hushed voice. She always spoke like that around Ryoma, even though they had known each other for years. "Do you want to go to the tennis courts? I mean not to play, I know you can't, because you're hurt, and can't play, but… To watch…?" She looked awkward and Ryoma didn't know what to say to her. So neither of them spoke and the silence between them stretched.

Sakuno shivered in a sudden cold breeze that flew by, and released her hair to grasp her skirt when the wind took hold of it. She looked at Ryoma, biting her lip, the wind blowing her hair to her face, hiding her violent blush.

Ryoma looked around him, took her hand and said, "Come on," before he started running, pulling Sakuno with her.

"Wait, where are we going?" she shouted, running with Ryoma, her hand trembling in the boy's hand.

"To get something to eat," Ryoma said and stopped suddenly in front of a café. "Unless you don't want to?" he asked, releasing her hand, nervous again.

Sakuno shook her head, and took Ryoma's hand, looking at the ground. She bit her lip and smiled. "Anything is fine, Ryoma-kun," she whispered and Ryoma could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.

"Oh no, my bag!" Someone shouted, and Ryoma saw a woman standing with a ripped plastic bag in her hand, her groceries spilled on the ground.

"Here, let me help you," A man spoke and came to help the woman.

Ryoma stared at them, last night returning in a flash to his mind. He looked at the woman smiling to the man that helped her and could only see the dead eyes of the woman from yesterday and hear her pleas for help.

"I hate it when that happens," Sakuno said, when she saw what Ryoma was looking at.

"I'm sorry Sakuno, I-" Ryoma didn't finish the sentence because he met Sakuno's gaze. Her eyes were like clear pools of spring water, sparkling with joy and happiness. She made the dark thoughts go away. "I'm not sure I brought enough money."

"Don't worry, I can pay for my own share," Sakuno said and pulled him inside the coffee shop.

* * *

Ryoma came home, his thoughts still on Sakuno. He'd spent the whole day with her, sitting in the café, walking in the park, holding hands. They hadn't talked much, but Ryoma hadn't felt the need for it either. He'd been content just being with her.

When he pushed open the gate to their garden, he saw someone - probably his mother - turn on the light in the kitchen, and blinked. He hadn't realised it was so late.

Ryoma looked behind him, wondering if the shadow he saw was just a shadow, or someone standing there, watching him. He knew Inui and Oishi were probably still following him, and wondered if they were the only ones who'd be watching his house tonight. It'd be stupid to think he'd get away with it, that the monster wouldn't come after him.

"Ryoma! Are you coming inside?" Rinko, standing by the front door, yelled.

"In a sec! I'm gonna stay out for a little longer!" Ryoma yelled back.

"Alright honey, but don't stay for too long! Dinner's ready!"

Ryoma headed to their garden, and nearly tripped on a ladder lying on the ground. His father had left them there when he'd fetched Karupin out off the tree last week. Karupin liked climbing on trees, but he never got down without help.

He got up and picked up the ladder, intending to take it back to the garden shed, but stopped, and looked up to his window. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the monster wouldn't show up tonight, maybe to kill him, maybe just to threaten him. There was nothing he could do about that, but he did have a choice of some kind. He could stay in his room, shivering under the covers all night, wait for what was going to happen, wonder if his family would be safe when it came for him, or he could choose to face the monster on his own terms.

Ryoma picked up the ladder and placed it under his window. He stood and watched the sun set, knowing it would not be long before it would be so dark he would have trouble separating his hand from the background, if he'd hold it before his face.

* * *

They ate dinner in silence. His dad didn't even tease him about Sakuno, even though he knew about it. Ryoma guessed his mother had her hands in it.

"I'm going to bed," Ryoma told them when he finished dinner.

"So early? Are you sick?" his mother asked.

"No, I'm just tired. And I've got school tomorrow."

"Alright then. Good night honey," Rinko said. She watched her go up the stairs with a worried frown. When she heard his door close she turned to Nanjiroh. "Do you think we should take him to see Hanamura-sensei again?"

"The kid's coping by himself. Let him. If he starts screaming in the middle of the night or wetting his bed again, we'll take him to see her," Nanjiroh said.

"Ryoma never wetted his bed, Nanjiroh. Don't go spreading rumours like that about our son. I'm sure he will have a hard enough time at school, everyone wanting to know about the attack," Rinko scolded him. "I wish you'd take this seriously."

"I am! Look there's nothing wrong with the kid. If anything, he's doing too well." Nanjiroh drew Rinko into a hug. He looked down on his feet when he felt sharp claws attack his ankle. "You damned cat! I should drown you!"

"Don't let Ryoma hear you talk about him like that," Rinko said and picked up Karupin. She stared at the cat strangely and then looked at the stairs. "He can't sleep without Karupin. Never has," she said, dropping the cat.

"Now don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing," Nanjiroh murmured soothingly and wrapped his arms around Rinko. "Nothing at all," he repeated calmly, but couldn't stop himself from narrowing his eyes at the cat by his feet. It shouldn't worry him so much that his son had finally matured to sleeping without his cat.

* * *

Alone in his room, Ryoma locked the door and turned off the lights. He went to the window, and waited. He didn't have to wait for long, for a shadow darker than the others to appear in the garden. He opened the window, found the ladder he'd placed under it, and with one more look at his door, climbed down.

When his feet, only covered with socks, touched the ground, he ran towards the tennis court, and stopped when he reached the stairs of the temple. He looked back at the house, saw the light in the living room, and the shadows of his parents moving inside. He could see them, but knew no one in the house could see him here.

"You knew I would come," the voice was as smooth as velvet, the words were spoken sharply, every syllable cutting through Ryoma like a sharp blade.

"Yes," Ryoma answered, his voice trembling more than he would have liked, and turned. He couldn't see the face of the monster clearly in the darkness, when there wasn't even a moon to give light, and the sky was covered by dark clouds. But he didn't need to see the man's face, to know who it was. The overwhelming presence, a pressure that pounded behind his eyes, the man's scent, his voice, were all imprinted in his mind.

"So presumptuous," the man said, anger clear and sharp in his voice. He stepped forward with quick steps, and Ryoma backed away, terrified. "I don't think I like it."

Ryoma flinched when the man's cold fingers landed on his chin. "So you can be afraid. I was beginning to wonder if you lacked the ability for it," the man spoke in his ear, his amusement thick and warm in the rich voice that sent waves of excitement through Ryoma. It mixed with the fear, and had Ryoma shiver in anticipation. He gasped at the sudden cold touch on his neck, gently caressing the skin around the bandages of his wound.

"I… I'm not scared," Ryoma said, his breathing hitched.

"But you are shivering." The man pulled Ryoma closer against himself. Ryoma let out a scream that was cut short by the man's hand over his mouth.

"Why?" the man asked. "If I terrify you so much, why did you follow me, why wait for me?"

Ryoma swallowed and lifted his eyes to look at the man's face for the first time that night. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and he could see the man's features. He was beautiful, but not in the way Sakuno was, or even in the way the stranger at the airport had been. This man was bolder. He didn't try to hide behind a mask of gentleness. The smile he wore radiated of self confidence, of power he knew he possessed, and was not afraid to use.

And that was the answer Ryoma hadn't known even existed until he was asked the question. "Power," Ryoma whispered and saw the man's eyes grow wide. "You have it. I want it." All that time shivering in the hospital room, shrieking at shadows, that was what he had wanted. The strength he had felt, so he could face the monsters determined on haunting him, without the fear overwhelming him.

"Not mine, never mine," the man answered, trailing his fingers against the pulse that beat on the boy's neck. "Who knows, maybe one day there will be a vampire so taken by you, that they will give you what you seek."

"But not you?" Ryoma asked, his voice a raspy whisper, the fear and something else he couldn't recognize, drying his mouth and throat.

"No, not me," the man laughed before ripping the bandage from Ryoma's neck, and sinking his teeth in the skin, still tender from the old wounds.

* * *

Waking up that morning, in his own bed, laying over the covers, still wearing his clothes, Ryoma had trouble remembering the previous night. He had slipped into unconsciousness soon after the monster's teeth had penetrated the skin on his neck. But before he had passed out, he had felt something he hadn't on the night he'd been attacked. Remembering now what he had felt last night made his face hot. He understood now why the woman had gasped in pleasure when the man had sank his teeth in her flesh.

He sat up, too quickly and clasped his head when a sharp pain shot through his head. Her felt dizzy and fell back down on the bead, groaning. He lifted a hand to his neck and his fingers found a bandage there instead of a new wound.

"Ryoma, are you awake?" his mother knocked and turned the door handle. "Why is your door locked? Ryoma!"

"I'm up, mom! I'll come down soon!" he yelled, throat dry and his voice rasping.

"You don't sound good. You don't have a cold, do you?" she yelled, worried.

"I just forgot to close the window for the night, it's nothing!" Ryoma yelled back and looked up to confirm it. And like he'd guessed, the window was open. The ladder was probably still there, too.

"Oh Ryoma," he heard his mother sigh. "You should take better care of yourself. Karupin's been sleeping behind your door the whole night. Won't you at least let him in?"

"In a sec, mom!" Ryoma yelled back, still trying to cope with his headache.

When he heard his mother's footsteps going downstairs, Ryoma stood up and walked to the door unsteadily. He opened the door and Karupin came in, meowing softly, and rubbing against his ankles. Ryoma closed the door after he was in, and noticed his socks were covered in dirt and grass stains. He walked over to his desk chair to take them off, and saw what had been placed on his desk.

A single red rose and a small white card with a gold lining. Ryoma picked up the rose, snapped it in half and threw it out of the open window. He meant to do the same with the card, but paused. There was nothing more than a single name on it. Atobe.

So the monster had a name.

Ryoma closed his fist around the card and gritted his teeth. "A rose? What the hell does he take me for?"

* * *

"Hey Echizen!" Horio screamed and came to stand by his desk. "So, you dating Ryuzaki-san now?" he asked.

Ryoma gave him a blank look and then ignored him in favour of setting his books on the desk.

"Echizen!"

"None of your business," Ryoma told him and saw Sakuno enter the classroom. She ducked her head when their eyes locked, but Ryoma still spotted the smile on her face.

"Fuck, you're smiling!" Horio screamed and the whole class turned to stare at them, causing Sakuno to blush bright red and the girls around her to giggle.

"Good morning class!" The teacher came in, interrupting Ryoma's murder plans.

The teacher placed his briefcase on the desk and pushed up the round glasses he wore. There were rumours about the authenticity of his need for the glasses and his thick Kansai accent. Along with other rumours that concerned some of the more attractive female students in the senior year. Ryoma believed only a fraction of them. Horio'd told them he'd seen the teacher read without his glasses once.

Ryoma stole a glance at Sakuno, and she lifted her eyes from the book in front of her to give Ryoma a small smile. He smiled back at her, and only remembered to pay attention to the teacher when Kachirou, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with a textbook.

When he was leaving the classroom, the teacher stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder, and Ryoma tensed under the touch. Oshitari-sensei's habit of touching the person he was talking to had always made Ryoma wary, more so after he'd noticed that Oshitari-sensei preferred talking to him more than any of the other students.

"Are you well, Echizen-kun?" Oshitari asked, rubbing Ryoma's shoulder in a way he knew was meant to be comforting. "You look pale. I heard what happened, of course, since you were not at school, your parents informed us."

"I'm fine, sensei," Ryoma said and tried to get away from the touch by stepping back. Instead the teacher stepped with him, bringing his body closer to Ryoma's.

"Perhaps I should take you to the nurse's office?" Oshitari suggested.

"It's fine sensei. I'll go see the nurse if I don't feel good," Ryoma said and brushed the hand from his shoulder.

"Well if you are sure." Oshitari didn't seem convinced and frowned. "Just remember my door is always open if you are having problems."

"I will sensei." Ryoma left the classroom and wondered if the female had been replaced with male in one of the rumours that were told about the teacher, it could be accurate.

"Ryoma-kun," Sakuno had been waiting for him outside the classroom. "What did Oshitari-sensei want with you?"

"He just wanted to know if I was alright," Ryoma said.

Sakuno glanced back at the classroom and Oshitari waved at her. She waved back and blushed when Oshitari winked at her. "He's one of my favourite teachers," she whispered to Ryoma who turned to glare at Oshitari, who just shrugged and went back to clearing his desk.

"I think he's weird," Ryoma said and grabbed Sakuno by the elbow to take her away.

"Uhm, Ryoma-kun, are we eating lunch together? I made you a bento." Sakuno said.

"Really?" Ryoma asked. He'd always gotten bentos from girls, even from Sakuno, but this was the first time he was happy about it. "Thanks," he finally said. "And yeah, let's eat lunch together." Ryoma was pretty sure he'd never been happier than now, when he saw Sakuno's beaming smile.

* * *

When Ryoma came home he went straight to the garden and took the ladder from behind his window back to the shed. He wondered briefly if he should've just left it lying around somewhere in the garden, because that was what his father always did. Now that it was in the shed where it belonged, Nanjiroh would guess Ryoma had used it. Because even though Rinko would take it to the shed too she never had any use for the ladder.

Ryoma was about to go inside the house when he suddenly wanted to call Sakuno. And it would be better to call from outside, than from the house where his father would no doubt try to bud in with his idiotic comments.

"_Hello,"_ she answered.

"Hi it's me," Ryoma said, and realized he should say his name, because he hadn't given Sakuno his phone number.

"_Hi Ryoma-kun,"_ she said.

"You knew it was me?" Ryoma asked.

"_I recognized your voice, Ryoma-kun," _Ryoma could almost hear her smile. _"What is it? Everything's alright, isn't it?"_ there was a little worry in her voice.

"Yeah, everything's fine, it's just that…" Ryoma hesitated. "I forgot to ask you at school if you want to go and see a movie, or something?"

"_Oh no!" _Sakuno shouted.

"What?" Ryoma panicked.

"_I can't today. Mom wants me to help her clean the attic," _Sakuno said and Ryoma sighed in relief. _"But I'm free tomorrow."_

"Okay. Tomorrow. I'll see you at school," Ryoma said.

"_See you tomorrow Ryoma-kun,"_ Sakuno said and ended the call.

Ryoma went around the back of the house, and found his dad waiting for him by the back porch. He was sitting with his legs crossed, hands folded, and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. A mock image of a monk, complete with his brown monk's garb. His eyes were closed and when Ryoma stepped on the porch, he opened them, dark eyes sparkling. "Kid," Nanjiroh said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and waving it around while he spoke. "You got anything you want to tell me?" he asked.

"No dad. And if I did, I wouldn't tell you," Ryoma said and took another step towards the door.

"I saw the ladder outside your window," Nanjiroh said and Ryoma stopped with his back at Nanjiroh. He didn't say anything and waited to hear what Nanjiroh would say. "Tell your old man the truth. You sneaked off to play tennis last night, didn't you? Your mom said you had the window open the whole night."

Ryoma nearly sighed out loud from relief, but managed to stop himself and turned to look at his dad. He shrugged and Nanjiroh grinned, closing his eyes.

"I just hope you didn't use that right hand of yours. Putting strain on it could make it worse, but I suppose it won't hurt if you do a little something, just so you don't start lagging behind. Just remember to let your wrist heal, alright kid? We don't want your mom to worry."

"Hmm." Ryoma nodded at his dad and went inside. He felt guilty he hadn't sneaked off to play tennis in the middle of the night. He'd been so focused on everything else, Sakuno and Atobe, that he hadn't given tennis a single thought. And he felt like an idiot for doing so. Tennis was what he was going to do when he got out of school, it was what he'd been focusing on for his whole life and to think he could forget it so easily when he was given proof that what had scared him all those years ago was real, and not just his imagination…

He decided he'd talk to the coach tomorrow, to ask if he could start attending practice again. Sure he couldn't play matches as long as his wrist was still aching, but he could still practice, do laps, something!

"Ryoma, stop picking on your bandages!" his mom shouted and Ryoma noticed he'd been tearing at the bandages around his wrist.

"Sorry mom," Ryoma mumbled and disappeared up to his room.

Rinko kneeled to stroke the long fur of the once again abandoned Karupin that looked lost when Ryoma hadn't picked him up, or even petted him when he came home. "Don't worry Karupin, I'm sure it's just a phase he's going through," Rinko told the cat, and swallowed her tears.

* * *

It was nearly nine o'clock when Ryoma remembered to do his homework. He sat down by his desk and meant to turn on the light. But he paused, finger on the switch and looked outside. He stared, wondering if a tree branch that the wind moved, wasn't a man's hand. He stared for five minutes, but when the figure just kept swaying, Ryoma finally shrugged, switched the light on, and started doing his homework.

He woke up with a startle when someone shook his shoulder.

"You should go to sleep, Ryoma," his mother said, and gently separated Ryoma's cheek from a textbook page. "Your father and I will still be up for a little while, if you need anything," she ruffled his hair before leaving.

"Okay mom," Ryoma said, and yawned. He quickly took off his clothes, and too tired to change into his pyjamas he slipped under the covers with just his boxers and turned off the light, reaching the switch just barely from his bed.

* * *

"Mmm, Karupin," Ryoma muttered, half asleep when he felt something nuzzling at his neck. He smiled and brought a hand to stroke the cat. He just didn't remember Karupin's hair being this soft and sleek… He jolted up when he realized that he definitely didn't remember Karupin having a tongue that large!

"What the hell are you-!" he yelled, and was pushed back down on the bed.

"Shh, we don't want to alert your parents." Atobe silenced him by placing a finger on his lips.

Ryoma stared, letting the voice flow through him like last night. Every word was spoken carefully, as if they each held a special meaning, and every time Atobe's voice lowered, Ryoma felt a pleasant jolt in the pit of his stomach. The smile on Atobe's lips was playful, and it had Ryoma mesmerized. When Atobe's hand slid down to his neck, he shivered. It was new to him, to have a touch affect him like this. He didn't think much about it that it was another boy, and not a girl that made him feel like this, because Atobe wasn't human. Normality didn't apply to him, to them, this.

Atobe slid his thumb on the boy's neck, and whispered in Ryoma's ear, "When you didn't leave the window open, I had to come through the front door. Do you know what an inconvenience it was to sneak up here without being noticed?"

"I wasn't going to leave the window open for the whole night and risk getting a cold just because you might show up," Ryoma answered with an even voice, despite his dry throat and hammering heart.

"You should start," Atobe told him, his smile losing its playfulness when his eyes turned cold.

"Why should I?" Ryoma frowned and grabbed the hand on his throat, trying to pull it away. The hand didn't even flinch. Instead the fingers tightened around his neck and Ryoma panicked when he couldn't breathe anymore.

"Because I said you should," Atobe hissed, staring coldly at him, his face immovable like a porcelain mask.

Ryoma gasped for air desperately, clawed at Atobe's skin, trying to pry away the hand that was strangling him. He kicked the man hovering over him, but nothing helped. Finally Atobe released him and Ryoma sprung up, coughing, drawing in deep breaths.

"Ryoma, are you alright?" his mother asked form behind the door. "You didn't catch a cold from keeping the window open last night, did you? I can hear you coughing."

"It's nothing mom, my throat's just dry," Ryoma shouted, his voice raspy.

"Alright honey. Your father and I are going to bed now. Good night!"

"Night," Ryoma answered, hand around his sore neck.

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder and Atobe hissed in his ear, "You will keep the window open tomorrow night." and was gone, the wind blowing form the open window, making the curtains dance, and scattering the papers from his desk, on to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long for me to get off my lazy ass, but here's a chapter. Hope you enjoy.  
Comments and critique appreciated.

* * *

The next day Ryoma spent his lunch talking with the tennis team's coach, and got permission to come to practice again when he promised he wouldn't strain his right wrist, and would tell the coach if he felt ill. He hardly paid attention in any of the afternoon classes, because all he could think of was tennis, and how he could play again.

But when he arrived at practice, the coach and everyone on the team made sure Ryoma didn't even get to touch a racket. Ryoma knew they only meant well, but he still hated them for it. He was actually happy when practice ended.

Coming out of the locker room, Ryoma walked over to Sakuno who had been waiting for him.

"I'm sorry they didn't let you play, Ryoma-kun," Sakuno said.

"They could've let me play at least one match. It's not like I need both hands to play," Ryoma grumbled. "I could've just let the other guy serve the whole game." He had suggested that to the coach and gotten a long, long blank stare that had been followed by a fit of laughter. Ryoma hated the coach.

As they walked, Ryoma glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye every now and then. She had her head bowed down, and her long hair, flowing open again, covered most of her face. Ryoma remembered telling her once that she should cut her hair, when she had asked for his advice on how to get better at tennis. He was glad she hadn't listened to him.

With a shaky hand and a nervous gulp, Ryoma reached out and took her hand. She turned to look at him, eyes wide, startled. But then she squeezed Ryoma's hand and smiled.

They stopped before Sakuno's house, and still holding Sakuno's hand, Ryoma cast a nervous glance at the windows, almost expecting to see Ryuzaki-sensei glaring at him. But when he saw no one, Ryoma turned his eyes back to Sakuno's face. She was biting her lip, and was looking down, her eyes darting every now and then up to Ryoma's face. His hand trembling, Ryoma leaned down, and kissed her. It was just a quick peck on the lips, and the moment their lips separated Sakuno ran to the front door. She stopped before opening the door, and looked at Ryoma from over her shoulder, smiling. Ryoma returned the smile, knowing he looked like an idiot, but didn't care, and walked home in a daze.

He didn't realize he was still smiling when he sat down on the living room couch, but then his dad yelled, "You kissed her!"

"What?!" Ryoma yelled, jumping up from the couch. "How did you know?"

Nanjiroh's already wide grin spread only wider at Ryoma's admittance. "I recognize that smile!"

"What are you two arguing about now?" Rinko came into the living room, trailed by Karupin, who was trying to jump up to his cup that Rinko was holding.

"The kid and Sakuno-chan kissed!"

"Dad!"

"That's nice dear. I'm so happy things are going well with you and Sakuno. She's a sweet girl." Rinko smiled. She was pleased to see her son scowling again and arguing with his father. Things seemed to be back to normal.

"I'm not staying for dinner tonight. I'm going to the movies with a friend," he told them.

"That friend wouldn't happen to be a girlfriend, would she?" Nanjiroh asked with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"I'm going up to my room!" Ryoma yelled and grabbed Karupin with him on the way. The cat meowed a protest, climbed up to place his paws on the boy's shoulder, and stared longingly at the food still held in Rinko's hand.

* * *

Ryoma waited for Sakuno across the street from the movie theatre. He jumped when a street lamp lit over his head and closed his eyes against the suddenly bright, artificial light. When the afterimage of the lamp bulb faded behind his closed eyelids he looked at his watch. Only fifteen minutes to the time they had agreed to meet, but Ryoma wished Sakuno would hurry. With the memory of Atobe's fingers strangling him, he knew he would feel more comfortable inside the theatre, holding Sakuno's hand.

When he finally saw her, he didn't greet her, just watched. She was wearing a skirt today, just like the other day, and a brown coat. She'd tied her hair up on a ponytail, but it was still long enough to reach her waist and tangle in the strings of her small bag.

Ryoma took a step forward and raised his hand to wave at Sakuno, when someone stepped between them. The smile on his face died when he looked up to Atobe's cold eyes. It was a new look he saw in them. It was not the hunger he had grown used to, and expected to see in Atobe's eyes, nor was it the cold, emotionless look he'd seen in them last night.

This was something else, something that scared him even more than a child's memory of a stranger's blue eyes and a predatory grin. It scared him more because there was something human in it.

"I will not have this!" Ryoma flinched when Atobe spoke and crouched when the voice hit him like a knife slicing inside his head.

He grabbed his forehead and squinted when the light of the street lamp made the pain worse. "Fuck you," Ryoma spat, clutching his head with both his hands now. "What the hell do you want?" he yelled through the pain.

"You think I will let you have her, share what I have claimed as mine, with someone else?" Through the sharp pain, he heard the words Atobe spoke clearly, as though it was not with his ears he heard them, but with his mind. "Your life belongs to me now. Do not dare to think otherwise."

Ryoma panted, down on one knee, the pain now gone, as suddenly as it had appeared.

"Echizen-san!" Ryoma heard a familiar, worried voice shout, and soon gentle hands were lifting him up.

"Oishi-san," Ryoma muttered a greeting and pushed the man away, even though his feet still felt weak. "Thank you, but I'm fine now."

Oishi seemed reluctant to release him, but did so anyway.

"Who was that young man?" Inui had appeared, probably at the same time as Oishi, but Ryoma hadn't noticed him until he spoke.

"What young man?" Ryoma asked, despite knowing Inui meant Atobe.

"The one that was standing right there," Inui pointed at a spot, only a few steps away from Ryoma, "Only a few moments ago. He seemed to know you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Just because some freak recognizes me, doesn't mean I know them. Besides, I don't have time to talk to you, I have to-" Ryoma looked across the street and searched for Sakuno. He found her, with Atobe standing beside her, looking at Ryoma. There was a challenge on Atobe's face, and a promise that if he chose to go against Atobe, Sakuno would be the one to pay.

"What, Echizen-san? Are you meeting a friend?" Oishi asked.

"No, I'm just… Nothing," Ryoma said, turning his back on the theatre, and Sakuno. He had to keep her safe, she wasn't a part of this ugliness, shouldn't be. Just because Ryoma liked having her, someone pure in his life, was no justification to cause her harm.

"Maybe we should take you to the hospital?" Oishi asked, worried.

"It's fine, really. I just haven't eaten anything," Ryoma said and realized it was the true when his stomach growled.

"Why don't we take you to dinner?" Oishi suggested enthusiastically and glanced at his partner pleadingly.

"I see no problem with us sharing a meal with Echizen-san," Inui said.

"Thanks for treating me," Ryoma was quick to say.

"Your turn to buy, Oishi," Inui said. "I can check the calendar, if you do not trust my memory."

"No, it's fine," Oishi said and sighed sadly. After all, it was his idea to begin with, so it was only fair.

Ryoma followed the two men to a quiet little sushi shop, where the man behind the desk greeted both with a big grin.

"Hello Taka-san," Inui said.

"Inui, Oishi, nice to see you again," The man said, with a gentle smile that made Ryoma feel welcomed. "And who's your friend? A new recruit?"

"No, he is a witness in an ongoing investigation," Inui said. "We will take the table at the back."

"Alright. You taking your usual?" he asked, and when the two nodded, he turned to Ryoma and asked, "And you?"

Ryoma considered going for pricy, since he wasn't buying, but finally settled for something that wouldn't make too big of a hole in Oishi's pocket. He figured the guy didn't make lots of money from being a cop, or if he did, he had horrible fashion sense, and a terrible hairdresser. Though the hair style was probably a choice, so there really was no telling.

"So, about the man," Inui had taken out his notebook the moment they sat down, and Ryoma's face darkened. Couldn't the man just eat, without trying to interrogate him?

"Let's not talk about that, and just enjoy Taka-san's sushi," Oishi suggested, noticing Ryoma's expression, and wanting to avoid a confrontation.

"You know him pretty well?" Ryoma asked, happily following Oishi's suggestion.

"We played tennis together at school," Inui answered him.

"You played tennis?" Ryoma asked and leaned forward. Tennis was something he was always happy to talk about.

"Yes. If I remember correctly, so do you. Probably your father's influence. He was a very good tennis player, but retired early on in his career. I've always wondered the reason for that." Inui looked at Ryoma, as if waiting for the boy to shed light on an issue that many had wondered since the day Echizen Nanjiroh had announced his retirement from the tennis circuit.

"Don't ask me, I don't know," Ryoma pushed the question aside. "Were you any good?" he wanted to know.

"Nationally ranked," Inui said. "And so was Oishi, with his doubles partner."

"You played doubles?" Ryoma asked and looked at Oishi. "I'm not good at doubles."

Oishi grinned sheepishly and answered Ryoma. "I was never much of a singles player. I liked being part of a team."

"If you were so good, why'd you stop playing?" Ryoma asked, not understanding why someone would stop doing something they were so good at.

"My family had other expectations concerning my career," Inui said.

"And when my partner chose that tennis was not for him, I never found another partner I could have played so well with, so I stopped. How I ended up becoming part of the police force," he shrugged. "Influenced by an old friend, perhaps," he glanced at Inui, and even though the smile was happy, there was sadness in it, like he was remembering things in the past that were hurtful. Inui returned the smile with a one more subdued, than the one on his partner's face.

"Here you are," Taka-san placed their orders in front of them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you Taka-san," Inui said. They concentrated on eating, and the conversation died.

When he was done, Ryoma looked around and finally asked, "Is there a bathroom around here?"

"Just over there," Oishi told him and pointed at the back of the shop.

"Thanks. Be right back," Ryoma said and left the table.

A few minutes after Ryoma had excused himself Inui pushed his empty plate away and said, "We better go after him. I think we have given him a long enough head start."

"He said he'd be right back," Oishi protested.

"Your constant belief in the good in people never ceases to amaze me, Oishi, even after all you have seen," Inui said, and even though Oishi really wanted to take it as a complement, he knew Inui well enough to know it wasn't, and flushed. "If you remember, there is a back exit near the bathrooms."

"That doesn't mean he used it!" Oishi defended the absent boy.

"Alright, to please you, we will check the bathroom first. You go check, and I will settle the bill with Taka-san." Oishi smiled widely, realizing he wouldn't have to pay. "I will present you with the receipt, so you can be assured I am not asking for too much when you pay me back."

Oishi's shoulders slumped. "It's fine, Inui. I trust you," he sighed.

"No, I insist."

Oishi walked over to the bathroom and his mood soon brightened when he found it locked.

"See, he's still there," Oishi beamed at Inui when the other arrived. He was still smiling when the door opened and a man that was taller than Inui stepped out.

"Come Oishi. If we hurry, we might catch up to him," Inui said and patted him on the shoulder.

* * *

Ryoma waited for fifteen minutes before he came out off the women's bathroom, and when he stepped out, received a slap on his cheek form an elderly woman. "Really, you young criminals! I have a weak bladder, young man, I do not have the patience to indulge you hooligans occupying the bathroom for your pranks! I better not find the toilet seat up and graffiti on the walls!"

"I'm sorry lady!" Ryoma shouted and ran through the sushi shop, outside to the street, hardly noticing Taka-san's confused face behind the counter.

He picked a narrow alley and hoped it would lead to a place he'd recognize. After three alleyways he finally reached a wider street, but he had no idea where it was. There were only two dim lights on the street, and the other one, only a few steps away from Ryoma, kept flickering on and off. Ryoma saw a couple under the flickering light when it went on, and heard a moan as it turned off again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ryoma said and meant to turn and leave.

"There's no reason," a soft voice spoke and Ryoma froze, recognizing it. It was the same voice that had been haunting his nightmares for years. "I'm already done with him."

Ryoma watched silently as one of the figures, the one next to the wall slid down on to the ground. The lamp flickered on again, and Ryoma could see the dead eyes staring ahead, seeing nothing. The body's head was tilted on the other shoulder, revealing two puncture wounds on the pale neck.

It had been a boy, Ryoma's age, wearing jeans and a green jacket. He still held an mp3 player in his hand, and there were headphones around his neck. Ryoma heard muffled music from the headphones, and thought he recognized the song as one of his favourites.

Ryoma tore his gaze from the body to hauntingly familiar blue eyes. "I remember your scent," the stranger said and smiled. He glided through the air to Ryoma, his hands landing on the boy's shoulders, moved along his neck and up to frame his face. He bent his head and grazed his lips against Ryoma's forehead. "Five years ago. I let you go. Now I am glad I did." He lifted Ryoma's face to show the boy his pleased smile. "You turned out better than I ever expected."

Ryoma tried to step back, only to be pulled back in the creatures embrace, its hands circling his waist. When he was kissed, Ryoma was too scared to protest against the tongue that slipped in his mouth.

Suddenly he was released and an arm was coiled around his waist, and a hand placed on his shoulder. Ryoma did not need to turn, to know who it was, holding him.

"Atobe," the creature greeted the man standing where it had stood only a moment ago. "You're touching something I would very much like to have."

"You always did have a nasty habit of wanting things you shouldn't, Fuji," Atobe answered, pushing Ryoma behind him.

"One could claim he already belongs to me," Fuji grinned, licking his lips, not even attempting to hide his fangs. "I saw him first. Now hand him over." Fuji had narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice to a dangerous growl.

"No." Atobe spoke, voice just as dangerous as Fuji's. "He's mine."

"Five years ago. I left my mark on his mind," Fuji said. "I let him go then, knowing this day would come. And if it is proof you want, you only need to see how he still cowers in fear before me." Fuji took a step forward and Ryoma flinched. His reaction made Fuji grin wider.

"I have no intention of giving you something that willingly offered itself to me," Atobe said.

Fuji pursed his lips together and frowned. "Really? A mouse walking in to the claws of a cat? That is something that doesn't happen everyday."

"No, it isn't. But now I am beginning to think the mouse was only seeking protection from a snake." Atobe's voice had lost its dangerous edge, and sounded more thoughtful than anything else.

"And I'm the snake?" Fuji asked, chuckling. "Well, do as you please. I have no interest in breaking a happy couple such as you two. Will you share your blood with him, Atobe? Make him truly yours? Give him, what you have denied from every other creature that has worshipped you?"

"Why so interested in if I choose to make a fledgling of my own? Do not your own interest you anymore?" Atobe asked, tilting his head and giving Fuji an arrogant smile. "Where are Yuuta and Tezuka?" Atobe asked, and Ryoma frowned, the other name sounding familiar.

"I don't know," Fuji looked away, and Ryoma was stunned by the sudden change in the creature, the sadness he saw in Fuji's face, and heard from his voice. The arrogance and amused indifference he had displayed earlier had disappeared so quickly, Ryoma doubted his own memory of them. "Yuuta will eventually return, if only to slay me, but Tezuka… I do not know. He has always been stubborn, and very good at staying hidden, when he so wishes."

"Tezuka," Ryoma muttered the name, finally remembering where he had heard it before.

Fuji's attention snapped back to him when he spoke the name. "You know something? Speak!" Fuji demanded, his eyes burning.

Ryoma glanced at Atobe, unsure of what he should do. When Atobe only shrugged and lifted an eyebrow, Ryoma frowned. "The night I was attacked, those two… They mentioned Tezuka," Ryoma said, looking at Atobe.

"Did they?" Atobe asked, his tense smile making it clear he was annoyed that Ryoma had spoken at all.

"What else?" Fuji's tense voice asked.

Ryoma tore his eyes from Atobe to shake his head at Fuji. "Nothing," he said.

Fuji narrowed his eyes, and stepped closer, fisting his hands, and Ryoma nearly ran, but Atobe placed a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from fleeing. "Fuji!" Atobe spoke the name sharply, and Fuji stopped, still glaring at Ryoma.

"It is more than I have heard for years," Fuji said, voice calm. "What happened to them?" he asked, staring at Ryoma, who looked at Atobe again.

Atobe stared at Ryoma, clicked his tongue in annoyance, but finally turned to Fuji and answered, "They are dead. I killed them."

"You…" Fuji seemed to be on the verge of rage again, but calmed himself, and his voice remained steady and soft, when he asked, "Why?"

"The other was out of control, killing, hardly even feeding, and the other wasn't doing anything about it. I had to get rid of them. They would have caused problems."

Fuji had stilled to hear Atobe's explanation, and nodded once Atobe finished. "His fledglings. I've come across them before. Always in pairs. He makes pairs, and then leaves them. He never leaves them alone. That stupid man." Fuji spoke the last part in an almost affectionate way, and closed his eyes, the gentle smile Ryoma remembered as the first expression he ever saw on the man's face, returning.

"Why did you come here, Fuji?" Atobe asked, taking his hand from Ryoma's shoulder, and stepping towards the other vampire. "It was not to chase after rumours of your errand fledglings, or hunt prey you let go years ago."

"Yes, I almost forgot my original reason for coming to see you," Fuji seemed to have gained back his cheeriness, and spoke in a lighter tone. "Sanada has woken. Aren't you happy?"

"Sanada?" Atobe repeated the name, his voice rising to a near shout. "He has slept for decades. What woke him?"

Fuji shrugged. "I do not know. All I know is that he is awake."

"How do you know this?" Atobe asked, sounding like he did not believe Fuji.

"He is my maker. You have not forgotten that, have you?" Fuji asked, and seemed surprised Atobe would ask him that. "I have always known where he is, if he isn't trying to hide his presence. It is the same the other way around. Don't tell me you never-" Fuji stopped speaking, seeming to realize something. "Ah, of course. You wouldn't have paid attention to it, and he wouldn't have told you. Not when you both had so many other things to consider."

"You are sure Sanada has woken?" Atobe asked, ignoring everything else Fuji had said.

"I am," Fuji flashed him a brilliant smile. "And that is why I came. I'll just clean after myself so you don't have an excuse to rip my head off." He walked over to the corpse and hoisted it over his shoulder. "I wouldn't want to be here when Sanada arrives and sees him." Fuji nudged his head towards Ryoma. "I doubt it'll be pretty," Fuji stated with a smirk, and was gone, in a blur of colours.

"What did he mean?" Ryoma asked. "Who's Sanada?"

"No one you should concern yourself with," Atobe said, his back still turned on the boy, looking after Fuji.

"Yes he is! The way he talked about him, like this Sanada wants to kill me!" Ryoma screamed and when Atobe turned to look at him, Ryoma stepped back, staring in horror at the wide grin on Atobe's face, and at the reckless glint in his eyes.

"He probably does," Atobe laughed, and Ryoma was reminded that Atobe wasn't someone he could demand answers from. Ryoma's life meant nothing to him. "But he won't."

"No?" Ryoma whispered the question, his eyes following every move Atobe made, every step he took when he came closer, his hand when it rose to cup Ryoma's chin.

Ryoma swallowed, mouth dry when Atobe leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, the fingers on his chin sliding down, over his neck and chest, and finally rested against his side. He gritted his teeth, struggling against the desire to respond, hating how much the kiss resembled the one he'd shared with Sakuno. He tried to picture her smiling face, and sparkling eyes before him, but her image in his mind was soon pushed aside and replaced by an arrogant smirk, and blue eyes glinting with hunger and want.

Atobe's lips became more demanding, for the kiss turned from gentle to voracious, and any resemblance to sweetness and innocence it had once held was chased away, along with the remnants of Ryoma's resistance. He sought Atobe's tongue just as hungrily as it sought his, tore at the man's hair and clothes, growled angrily when he couldn't get any closer, feel more.

"You are mine now," Atobe's voice purred, his fingers entwining in Ryoma's hair, his hand pressing against his side, keeping them close. "You cannot escape, not even if you wished it."

The words, the self-assured tone in which they wore spoken flared Ryoma's temper, and he pushed away from Atobe, hitting his back on the stone wall behind him. "You seem so sure I don't want to," Ryoma spoke breathlessly, a cutting edge of rage in his voice that was fanned by the amusement he saw that glittering in Atobe's eyes.

"And why shouldn't I?" Atobe asked, laughter in his voice. "I know you better than your parents, friends, or that girl does. Even better than you know yourself. There is nothing you could hide from me."

Ryoma shivered again, from fear now. "There is no way you could know me, not like you claim," he hissed.

"You can keep clinging on to that delusion, if you so wish," Atobe whispered, leaning closer, his lips hovering over Ryoma's. "It does not matter," he murmured against the boy's lips, pressed his hand on the boy's hip, and pushed it under his shirt, and Ryoma drew a shaky breath, shivering under the cold touch.

When Atobe's fangs sank into his neck, he nearly forgot how to breathe, the shock of sharp teeth tearing his skin, the loss of blood made everything else not matter. He wrapped his arms around Atobe, pulled even closer to the body pinning him, and when Atobe bit harder a strangled noise escaped from Ryoma's mouth as the pain became too much for him to bear anymore, and it tried to drag his mind to darkness. The darkness was a familiar refuge where he had fled before when he had been too tired and powerless to fight anymore.

Ryoma forced himself to stay conscious, to fight. He opened his eyes, focused on the dim light he saw still flickering above his head, dug his nails in the flesh under his hands, screamed, and Atobe bit harder again, his tongue warm against Ryoma's neck, his mouth sucking on his skin, making Ryoma's head spin, his lungs hurt, his skin tingle, his body warm, hot. Ryoma gasped when the pain twisted, turned to pleasure so intense that it made him moan aloud.

Another flash of pain shot through him when Atobe grasped his wrist and slammed his arm against the wall, but his whimper of pain morphed into a cry of pleasure when Atobe pushed against him, drawing his mind back from the daze it had tried to retreat to, and back to the reality where every touch was laced with burning heat and pleasure, where there had once been coldness and pain. And when every touch and move Atobe made, incited pleasure that travelled in waves through him, from the tips of his fingers, to the soles of his feet, from his spine, gut, and groin to his brain, it was impossible for him to stand firm before the onslaught of sensations, so he surrendered. It didn't matter that he had no power over the reactions of his body, of the sounds he made, of how it felt, that he would never have agreed to give this if he had been given the choice. All that mattered was that the feeling wouldn't stop, not until it reached the climax, the promise of sweet fulfilment shining just on the edge of his grasp.

In the end all it needed was one more caress from Atobe, a warm hand ghosting above the hot skin of Ryoma's stomach, and a wet tongue pressing against his neck and Ryoma came, with a needy moan he silenced by turning his head and burying his mouth on his shoulder.

Ryoma knew he needed to move soon, and pull away. But not yet, when he could still linger in the warmth of the body pressing against him. When Atobe moved, Ryoma had to struggle, to not reach out and fist his hands on Atobe's shirt, to not hold on. He let his hands fall to his sides, and when Atobe finally stepped away, Ryoma slid on the ground, not strong enough to stay standing with only his own strength to support him.


	8. Chapter 8

Beta:EternalAngel

A/N: I got tired of the lines, so there'll be zeros instead. Comments and critique appreciated, as always.

* * *

"Vampires in the graveyard at midnight. This is such a cliché," a sneering voice whined. "No self respecting vampire would be caught dead here." The owner of the voice, a young boy with dark curly hair and a sharp chin turned his eyes to his companion, waiting for him to answer.

"You are here," his companion answered, not looking at the boy.

"Only because you are!" the boy yelled and pointed at the man accusingly.

"You claim us not to be self respecting vampires then, Akaya?" the man asked in a steady voice, face held upwards. Had the man's eyes been open they would have reflected the crescent moon in them, but Renji never opened his eyes. Never so that Akaya saw.

"Why are we here?" the boy asked, instead of answering. "He's never returned here, he won't be here today either, like he wasn't last year, or any of the years before that."

"He will return one day. He said he would, he never lies." Yanagi spoke as if it was the undeniable truth, and even if Akaya believed that anything Yanagi said was the absolute truth that you could not argue with, this he did not believe. "Genichirou never fails to keep his word."

"He gave you that promise before Atobe messed him up," Akaya grumbled, but when he didn't get an answer moved away and kicked a wayward stone, muttering, "Every goddamned year we come here. And every goddamned year he's never here." He glanced back at Yanagi who still had his face raised to the heavens, an expression of a dreamer on his face and a gentle, hopeful smile on his lips.

The face was the same every year too. After so many disappointments his hope should have faded long ago.

This was a fool's errand, but Akaya could not help but come every year with Yanagi, to watch him, wait for him to fall apart. He knew the day that Yanagi would finally break would come, and Akaya wanted to be there. Not because of friendship, not for loyalty or love, but because he wanted to see the man never moved by anything break apart and shatter for something so trivial, as love. For what else could it have been but love that brought Yanagi back here every year?

Akaya did not know love. He had never, not even as a human experienced it.

His mortal mother had been a whore who'd abandoned him in the streets of a decayed and filthy city when he was old enough to speak his own name. Of his father and other family he had never known of. The first to show him kindness was the creature that took his mortal life, but gave him eternity in the darkness as compensation. To Akaya what he had gained was far more valuable than what he had lost. He willingly made himself a slave to his master who was not shy in using that to his own ends.

His maker he had respected, honoured, worshipped even, but never loved.

"And why here? This is the place-"

"I chose," a deep voice finished for him, and Akaya turned to stare at the man he had thought would never come. "Because this is the place where it all began for me, for _him_."

Nothing showed on that face, but Akaya heard it, that stress on the single word that was spoken instead of a name, and saw the delighted smile that had risen on Yanagi's face when the man had appeared.

Love, Akaya thought, was for fools.

0

0

Rinko sat by the kitchen table, her hands holding the phone she kept hoping would ring at any moment, and she would hear her son's voice. Her husband was on the other phone, speaking with the police. She couldn't tell what the conversation was about, Nanjiroh only responded in grunts now, when earlier he had yelled.

She had called Sakuno when Ryoma hadn't been home at ten, thinking, hoping the two teens had forgotten the time. Sakuno had sobbed on the phone, and finally the girl's mother had taken the phone, and told Rinko Ryoma had never arrived at the movie theatre, or even called Sakuno, to give an excuse or an explanation.

Rinko had hung up on the woman, and her angry rant for the treatment her daughter had received. Rinko would have agreed with her any other time, and scolded her son with the woman, but she was too worried. She knew Ryoma liked Sakuno, and would never have intentionally hurt her. There had to be a reason for Ryoma not showing up to meet the girl.

As the clock ticked forward, Rinko began to hope Ryoma was just inconsiderate to Sakuno's feelings, and had stood the girl up after finding something more interesting to do. The other alternatives were far too frightening for her to think of.

At eleven Nanjiroh had finally called the police.

"You people have someone following my son, don't you? Tell them to bring him home," Nanjiroh had said, and after that, there had been nothing much more than the grunting on Nanjiroh's part. It worried Rinko, along with the wary glances Nanjiroh gave her every time there was a pause in the conversation.

Finally Nanjiroh put the phone down on the kitchen table, and Rinko watched her husband, waiting for him to tell her that they were bringing her son home now, that they had found him shoplifting, or drinking somewhere. She would have preferred any scenario where Ryoma was coming home.

"The men that were following Ryoma," Nanjiroh took in a shaky breath, and Rinko stopped breathing. "They lost him."

"Oh God, Nanjiroh!" she cried, pulling her hands to her chest. "What if he's been attacked again? They told us someone might be after him!"

Nanjiroh ran to hold her. "They are looking for him right now, he'll be alright," he promised, hoping Rinko couldn't hear the fear in his voice. _'Where are you brat?'_

0

0

Ryoma stood outside his home, hands fisted on his sides. He knew he should go inside, and he didn't want anything more than to hold Karupin against his chest and forget all that had happened today, the confusion and chaos that his mind was in. Push it aside, and never think of it again.

Ryoma lifted a hand to the new bandages on his neck. Atobe had found them somewhere, and the care he had used when placing them over Ryoma's wounds, was something he hadn't expected.

Nothing about Atobe made any sense to him anymore. He didn't understand why Atobe was so angry at him for meeting with Sakuno, why he protected him from Fuji, but didn't seem to care when Fuji suggested someone might want to kill him. He didn't see the point of Atobe kissing him, holding him.

He thought of the night he had seen Atobe for the second time. He'd followed him on a whim, not really knowing why. He had grown tired of fearing, had wanted answers, and thought he could find them by following the man that had saved him. It didn't matter if that hadn't been Atobe's intention; he'd saved Ryoma that night. And today.

He didn't feel gratitude towards Atobe. He hated him for saving him, showing him power he could never have.

Ever since he was a kid, Ryoma had craved power. For years he'd played tennis with only one goal in his mind. Beating his father, to become more powerful than his father. And when he had come across a creature that made him tremble with terror by its mere presence, he had yearned for that power. Even when he had ran from Fuji as a child, and hid in terror, even then he had wanted it. Fuji's memory had preserved in his mind for so long, not solely because of fear.

But Atobe would never give him what he wanted. He had told him so from the start.

'_Never mine.'_

The words rang in his mind, rouse from his memory to mock him, and Ryoma laughed. He wanted to cry, but couldn't stop laughing.

"Ryoma!"

His mother was standing by the front door. The light in the hallway shone from behind her, lighting the path to the house. When everything surrounding him bathed in the light, Ryoma was left in the darkness that his mother's shadow created.

Rinko ran from the house, pulled open the gate and pulled Ryoma against her chest. "Where have you been Ryoma? You can't do things like that to me! Do you hear? Never do that again!" Her voice trembled and Ryoma put his arms around her and clenched his hands on her shirt.

"Ryoma?" she asked, and stroked his hair when the boy didn't look up, or answer. "Honey?"

Ryoma buried his head in her neck and didn't let go even when his father joined them and tried to get him to come inside. He was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but he didn't want to let go.

0

0

Ryoma's laughter rang hollow, and it made Atobe stop and look behind him, to where he had left the boy. Hearing the laugh made him want to turn back, snatch the boy from before his family, and embrace him tightly until the panic he heard in the laughter had passed.

"Do you think it's wise to linger here much longer than is necessary?" Fuji stepped out of the shadows to stand by his side.

"I thought you had left," Atobe said.

"You are going to drive that boy insane," Fuji warned him, his face dark. Then he grinned. "I figured it might be fun to watch him snap. But right now I'm not sure if you're not going snap first. That might be even more fun."

Atobe snorted. "You have a twisted idea of what is fun. I always knew you were insane."

Fuji pressed a finger on his smiling lips and gave Atobe a hooded stare. "I remember," he spoke slowly, "you warning Sanada about me."

"He never should have given you his blood. But he never listened to me, not even before-" Atobe grimaced, forcing his tongue silent.

"And there it is," Fuji grinned. "Both of you. You never talk about it. He's still controlling the both of you."

"He never held any power over me," Atobe sliced his hand through the air, as if cutting the imaginary strings, and walked away, trying to leave Fuji behind. But Fuji only laughed and followed.

"He had Sanada. He didn't have to." Fuji looked back where he knew the Echizen house was, turning serious again. "As much fun as it might be to watch you go insane, or Sanada ripping out the boy's limbs, one at a time when he arrives, I would much rather see a happy ending. I suggest you do something."

"A happy ending? You?" Atobe quirked an eyebrow and smiled. "Your life is a string of disastrous tragedies. What possible reason could you have for wishing a happy ending?"

"I do not revel in misery, Atobe," Fuji spoke softly, sadness in his voice. "Do you not think I wished for Yuuta to thank me, when I made him immortal? Instead he tried to cut off my head."

"What about Tezuka?" Atobe asked. "Admit it. You never expected anything but disaster with him."

"I loved him," Fuji whispered, and hid his face from Atobe. "You didn't see him, you wouldn't understand. He was so beautiful."

"He had a life, a family. People that depended on him, and whom he depended on. You never should have gotten involved in that," Atobe said.

"So does he!" Fuji pointed behind them. "You never should have started this, like I never should have begun it with Tezuka!"

"I am not you, and he is not Tezuka!" Atobe yelled.

"I know he is not Tezuka." Fuji said. "There is voraciousness in him that Tezuka never had. He will not shy away from the hunt."

"What are you talking about?" Atobe stepped back. "I have no intention of turning him into a monster like us."

"You have savoured that blood of yours for centuries. Sanada might want to kill the boy out of jealousy, but the others will want him dead because they fear you, of what he could become. That is why you must do it before they arrive."

Atobe looked away. "I can't," he said. "It is what he wants, but I cannot place a curse like this on him. Not on anyone."

"Then kill him," Fuji said. "He will not survive, in any case. He is too tempting of a mortal."

"He will!" Atobe stepped forward, forcing Fuji to back against a wall of a building that stood behind them "He will survive. I will make sure he will."

Fuji laughed in Atobe's face. "You arrogant ass. You will not be able to fight us all."

"Us?" Atobe asked, coiling his fingers around Fuji's throat, but Fuji simply smiled wider, and opened his eyes to show Atobe the fire he hid by keeping them closed.

"I have said this before. He is too tempting, the boy." Fuji licked his lips. "You should commend me for having the self restraint to let him go all those years ago."

"It would not be a strain for me to end your existence," Atobe threatened.

"But you'd miss me," Fuji grinned and pulled closer so he could whisper into Atobe's ear, "and I am probably the only ally you have among the un-dead, Atobe-kun."

Atobe released Fuji with a scoff. "Do not make me kill you."

"I would never force you to do something you did not want to," Fuji answered. "But you have to hurry. Soon the choice could be taken from both our hands."

"It is only Sanada. I can handle him, I always have," Atobe said.

"He will no doubt bring others with him. He is like Tezuka in that sense. Gathering others around him, not able to bear the thought of being alone." Fuji walked away, and this time, it was Atobe who followed him.

"Do you know, or are you just guessing?" Atobe asked.

"I know my master, Atobe," Fuji said. "He is not like you, or I. He wants to feel like he belongs to someone, is worth something to someone. He lost that once and would do anything to regain it."

"Must you insist on digging up the past?" Atobe gritted through his teeth. "What has happened, has happened. There is no reason to dwell on it."

"It is not me that drags the past with them like shackles," Fuji answered.

"Are you alluding that I do?" Atobe asked.

"No, you never did," Fuji shook his head. "That is perhaps the reason why Sanada woke alone."

"Do you know when he'll arrive?" Atobe asked, not bothering to respond to Fuji's comment.

"Tomorrow, next week. There is no way to be certain of the time. I only know that he is close," Fuji said. "You cannot leave the boy unguarded again. He will be safe as long as there are other humans around him. As much as they would like to have their hands on him, exposure is still something they do not wish. Tonight will be in your favour in the long run. The humans will be more convinced than ever that he is protecting a murderer."

"How long have you been here?" Atobe asked, narrowing his eyes at Fuji. "You know far too much."

Fuji blinked, hearing the suspicion in Atobe's voice. "I came across the men following him," he told Atobe. "They've seen you. It will not take them long to find you."

"There is nothing they can do, even if they succeed," Atobe dismissed the matter.

"They are both very protective of the boy," Fuji said. "You shouldn't underestimate them simply because they still have a heart that beats."

"They cannot connect me to anything. All they have are their suspicions, and they will not have anything more without Ryoma," Atobe said. "And Ryoma will not tell them anything."

"The other one, Inui, is treating it as a murder case," Fuji said and gave a little laugh. "Though why, I do not understand. They have no bodies. They should still be looking for the ones that attacked him."

Atobe grunted, but did not answer. He might not like what Fuji had to say, but knew most of it was true. He had made a mistake walking away from the dying boy that night. He should have made sure the boy was dead.

But he could not kill the boy now. Last night, maybe, but not now. In the short time that had passed between him sneaking up to the boy's room and tonight, the boy had become something more than a simple amusement and a toy. What exactly, he didn't know. He only knew that he didn't want the boy to die.

But he also knew he could never ensure the boy's safety, not completely, because he could not force on the boy the curse he had to live with. The thought of never seeing the sun did not seem much when you still could. Breathing had never been something he had valued, or the sound of his own heart beating. Sweat and tears on his skin, biting coldness and the comforting warmth his touch could once offer to someone else. All that lost for eternity.

The only choice that left him with was to fight anyone who would want to harm the boy. Against them all he would not stand a chance, but vampires were creatures that treasured their solitude and independence, only rarely did they seek a companion, or a group in which to exist. From the few that matched Atobe in strength, only Sanada cared enough to come, and he did not fear Sanada.


	9. Chapter 9

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: In a few chapters I'm going to delve into the past, and tell the tale of how Atobe became a vampire. I plan to do the same with some of the other characters as well. But for now, it's still Ryoma's story.  
Comments and criticism appreciated.

* * *

"You're grounded. For two weeks."

"What!" Ryoma screamed, nearly dropping the bowl of cereal he was holding.

"That's what you get for coming home late, and not calling. You should have seen your mother this morning when she was going to work. She hardly slept at all because of you." Nanjiroh gave Ryoma a long stare over from his newspaper. "And before you tell us the truth about where you were all night, there is no chance in hell I'm lessening the time. In fact, I'm tempted to add more days, just for the heck of it."

"I told you, I was just out walking," Ryoma answered, refusing to remember anything about last night, because he was afraid his face might flare up.

"Hah!" Nanjiroh threw his paper down on the table, and Ryoma was shocked to discover there wasn't a dirty magazine hidden behind it. "The way you bawled your heart out last night tells another story, young man. And so does the state of your clothes."

"What about my clothes?" Ryoma asked, bypassing the bawling comment. He did not bawl.

"Your… underwear, son," Nanjiroh said and quickly lifted the paper before his face. "Now go to school! We will discuss this in detail when you come home!"

In a state of shock, Ryoma put down his bowl of cereal and left the kitchen, pretty sure his face had never been redder. When he was in the hallway, he put on his shoes and picked up his bag. His hand on the door handle, he muttered, "Old pervert," under his breath.

"Three weeks!"

0

0

Ryoma stepped inside the school and there she was, surrounded by her friends, her hair hanging over her face. One of the girls with her saw Ryoma and gasped, making Sakuno look his way.

She looked sad. Disappointed, crushed. And Ryoma knew it was his fault.

"Man, what the hell did you do to her?" Katsuo came to talk to Ryoma. "All morning they've been cursing you. You better go apologize right now, if you don't want the wrath of the whole school's female population on your ass."

Ryoma wanted. He really did. But if Sakuno forgave him, that would mean another date, and another date might end with Sakuno dead. Ryoma already had the death of one woman on his conscience, and he couldn't bear the thought of Sakuno's blood on his hands.

So he turned away.

"Echizen?" shouted Katsuo, following him to the shoe lockers. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Ryoma snapped.

"Sure, nothing. That's probably why you're so relaxed!" Katsuo scoffed and left Ryoma alone.

Ryoma could feel Sakuno's eyes on him at every class, at recess, and at lunch, but he kept avoiding looking at her. He knew that if he looked at her, he couldn't look away again.

The last class of the day, and Ryoma kept staring at the clock, like everyone else in the class. Some teachers let the students go a little earlier when it was the end of the day, but Oshitari-sensei wasn't one of them. At the beginning of the year one of the boy's had started putting his books in his bag when there was still a minute left of class time, and Oshitari-sensei had stopped him before he left, and had lectured him on the virtues of accuracy for half an hour.

Class time finally ended, and the silent classroom was filled with sounds. Chairs scraping the floor when they were pushed back, muffled thumps when books were closed, sighs of relief and happy laughter.

"You coming to the arcade, Echizen?" Horio asked him, yelling more than normal, worried his voice would not be heard over the other sounds surrounding them.

"I have to go home," Ryoma said, and pushed past Horio, not wanting to answer the questions Horio would want to ask him.

At the door Ryoma looked back and saw Sakuno speaking with Oshitari. He frowned, and stayed to watch them. Someone closed the classroom door, but not all the way and Ryoma could still see them from the crack. He saw Oshitari place his hand on Sakuno's shoulder, bend closer to her face and speak, face concerned. Sakuno shook her head frantically, but when Oshitari placed his other hand on the other shoulder, she started shaking.

Oshitari seemed shocked, but soon recovered and pulled Sakuno in to a tight hug. He brushed her head as she sobbed against his chest, and Ryoma wanted to storm inside the classroom, and pull Sakuno away from Oshitari.

He tore his eyes away from them and leaned on the wall. He forced himself to stay there, to stare at the white wall across him, and listen to Sakuno's sobs. He closed his eyes, forced away the burning in the corners of his eyes, and ignored the desire to go to her.

It was quiet again when he opened his eyes and Sakuno was standing next to him. There were tear trails on her red cheeks, and a pleased, surprised smile on her face when she looked at Ryoma.

"Ryoma-kun," she said. "Do you… Did you wait for me?" she asked, hope bare in her voice.

Ryoma stood straight and breathed. He'd forgotten to draw in breath when he saw Sakuno standing next to him, forgotten to keep his face closed, to not let her see how happy he was that she was here now.

How easy it would be to say '_yes_', to take her hand, and say he was sorry.

"I need to talk to Oshitari-sensei," Ryoma said, and nearly took it back when Sakuno's smile vanished.

"You…" Sakuno fisted her hands and drew her mouth to a straight line. "You aren't…" She hesitated, squeezed her eyes shut and asked, her voice hushed, "Aren't you even going to apologize?" She opened her eyes once the words were out, unshed tears glistening in them.

Ryoma didn't answer, and Sakuno's mouth trembled. She fisted her hands, opened her mouth, but in the end, didn't say anything. Instead she slapped Ryoma on the cheek.

Ryoma looked at her, but couldn't meet her eyes. She stood still, holding her hand, breathing deeply and staring at Ryoma, who hadn't even lifted a hand to his burning cheek. Ryoma thought she might start crying again.

When Sakuno finally spoke her voice didn't waver at all. "I really liked you, Ryoma-kun. And I…" she paused to take in a shuttering breath. "I thought you liked me too. But I stood outside the movie theatre for over an hour yesterday, and waited all night for your call. And when your mother called, my mom had to take the phone from me, because I was crying so badly she couldn't understand a word I said! And you're not even going to apologize!"

Ryoma stared at the floor. "I don't care," he mumbled, waiting to be slapped again.

"You're such a liar, Ryoma-kun," she spoke softly, and when Ryoma looked up, shocked, she smiled at him. She looked sad, but when Ryoma expected more tears, Sakuno just sighed before turning away.

Ryoma couldn't help staring at her retreating back. Even after everything he'd done, no matter how much he'd tried to drive Sakuno away, she saw through him. Ryoma knew she'd wait till he'd go to her, and that she never doubted he wouldn't. And right now there wasn't anything else he wanted more.

"Why aren't you running after her?" Oshitari asked, and startled, Ryoma looked at the teacher who was standing at the classroom doorway.

Oshitari made Ryoma nervous, and it wasn't just his habit for physical contact. His eyes were always sparkling with silent laughter, and no matter what the conversation topic was there was always a barely hidden half smirk on the man's lips. "She's waiting for you."

"What were you doing with her?" Ryoma frowned at Oshitari, whose eyebrows rouse nearly to his hairline at the boy's accusing question.

"I was merely consoling her," Oshitari said, and smirked. "Despite what the rumours say, I do not seduce my female students."

Ryoma frowned, not entirely convinced. "You don't need to wear glasses," he said, just to accuse the man of something.

Oshitari chuckled and took off his glasses, folded them, and ran a hand through his hair. When Oshitari looked at him again without his glasses, Ryoma almost wished he'd put them back on. He'd never noticed the intensity in the way Oshitari looked at him, hadn't really looked at the man's face. Ryoma had always thought that without his glasses Oshitari would look naked, uncomfortable. He'd never imagined seeing this strength on Oshitari's face.

"No. I can see you quite clearly without them, Echizen-kun." He still spoke with that dragging accent, was still smiling, but the laughter in his eyes was more serious, and Ryoma felt vulnerable. It was as if Oshitari could see through him more clearly than anyone else. Saw the reasons behind the things he did, knew the truth.

"Echizen-kun," Oshitari placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, and Ryoma stiffened. He had an unrealistic fear that somehow by touching him, Oshitari could read his mind. "I know what is going on with you."

"Oh?" Ryoma asked, almost convinced Oshitari really did.

"It is not easy to discover you have so strong feelings for someone, especially when you are so young. It can be overwhelming." Oshitari patted his shoulder and took his hand away. "I wasn't just saying it, when I told you my door is always open, if you ever want to talk."

Ryoma wished his problems had been the kind he could talk to Oshitari about. Despite Oshitari's oddities, he felt reliable, someone who would take you seriously, listen to your problems. And Ryoma wanted to speak with someone who could help him make sense of the mess in his mind.

"Thank you sensei, but I'm fine," Ryoma said.

"You don't need to handle everything by yourself, Echizen-kun. There are people who care about you. Ryuzaki-san-"

"Is safer without me around," Ryoma interrupted Oshitari.

"Safer?" Oshitari lifted his eyebrows, and tapped his chin with the folded glasses. "Are you involved in something dangerous, Echizen-kun?" Oshitari asked, leaning closer, looking worried.

"No, I just…" Ryoma fumbled, mad at himself for saying too much. If Oshitari had never mentioned Sakuno, he never would have said something so stupid. "None of your business," he finally spat out, and backed away.

"Echizen-kun…" Oshitari said and reached towards the boy with his hand. Ryoma backed even more, eying the hand suspiciously.

"I'm fine," he said one final time before turning, and walking away from the teacher. Soon he was running through the corridor, and didn't stop even when he was out of the building. He only stopped when the school gates were so far behind him, that when he turned, he could no longer see them.

Home was where he should have been going, but it was the last place he wanted to be now. He knew his dad would probably add more weeks to his punishment, but he would take those weeks, if it meant he could have these few moments to himself.

Not wanting to run into anyone he knew, Ryoma avoided the places he hung out with his friends, and any place he thought someone from his school might be. That left him with only a few places to go, and he finally ended up walking aimlessly in narrow alleys, avoiding any turn that might take him to where there would be more people.

When the sun set and the street lamps turned on, Ryoma felt his pulse speed up, and anxious expectation spread through him as he waited for a familiar voice to taunt him with whispers in his ear, and for cold hands to embrace him.

"You are not being wise." A voice that Ryoma had thought to never hear again, spoke, and he turned to look.

Fuji had been with him for years, as the boogie man in the shadows, behind every dark corner, lurking in the shadows of his mind. That he was here now, real, something he could touch seemed like another dream, only with the difference that he didn't feel chased. Fuji's presence was different from last night. The threat was confined and controlled, when last night it had been rampant.

"What do you want?" Ryoma asked, irritated.

Fuji smiled at him and came closer, and with every step he took, Ryoma felt the old terror return. There was no difference in Fuji's smile, his eyes remained closed, yet Ryoma felt the fear strangle him, making it hard for him to breathe, to not cry.

"What do I want?" Fuji asked, his voice remaining as a whisper. "Oh, so many things, Ryoma, too many to count." Fuji leaned closer, his voice growing softer. Ryoma was fixed in his spot not by fear, but by Fuji's nearly breathless voice and the silent pleading in his now open eyes that begged Ryoma to stay.

"Would you grant me a wish, Ryoma?" Fuji asked, and brought a finger to the boy's lips. "Would you?" A cold breath ghosted over Ryoma's lips and he blinked and shook his head.

"What do you want?" he asked again, but with less heat in his voice, his thoughts still muffled. He stepped back, putting more distance between them, staring suspiciously at Fuji, who blinked at him, hand still raised.

"Were you not listening last night?" Fuji asked, putting down his hand and smiling cheerfully again. "Soon, in this city there will be creatures that will not be pleased by the fact that you still live. My presence will discourage them for a time."

"You're here to protect me?" Ryoma shouted, and nearly snorted. "Why?" he asked, frowning.

Fuji shrugged. "Atobe," he said. "Has always been a selfish bastard. But for some reason he has decided you are worthy of his protection. I'm intrigued by that oddity. It is not something he would do for just anyone. It's something he's never done for anyone."

"That's it? Curiosity?" Ryoma asked.

"Can you think of a better reason?" Fuji responded, leaning his back on the alley wall. "Would you believe any other reason?" Fuji asked, looking at him from the corner of his eyes.

"So there is another reason?" Ryoma pressed, but got no answer. Fuji closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, smiling serenely. And it started to annoy Ryoma, Fuji's aloofness.

"You know there are people following me," he said, hoping to get a rise out of Fuji.

"I know." Fuji answered, not even looking at the boy.

Ryoma huffed and turned his back on Fuji. "This is crazy," he muttered.

"Why?" Fuji appeared by his side, and Ryoma nearly jumped at his sudden move. He looked back at where Fuji had stood just a second ago, at least three meters away.

"How'd you do that?" he asked.

"I've always been fast." Fuji smiled.

Ryoma hunched his back, stuffed his fisted hands in his pockets, and started walking, Fuji by his side.

It was strange, to walk alongside the creature that had always been the first thing in his mind when he thought of fear. Even stranger was, that the creature claimed to be here for his protection, and that Ryoma felt safe with Fuji. It was probably stupid, letting his guard down. Nothing would stop Fuji from suddenly attacking him. But what good would it do, being afraid? If Fuji wanted to kill him, he'd be dead, whether he was scared or not.

Ryoma sighed, and relaxed his shoulders. He shivered, and his breath turned foggy in the cold air. He looked back at Fuji, wanting to see if his breath did the same. He wasn't surprised to see it didn't.

Vampires were dead, that is what Ryoma knew. Still they had breath, even if they didn't need to breathe. There was blood in their veins and a heart in their chest - that, he had seen with his own eyes. But there was no pulse in Atobe's wrist, no warmth in his breath.

He couldn't decide if it was the result of a miracle, or a curse that made it possible for Fuji to walk next to him, pretending to be alive.

Ryoma turned back to look ahead of him. The alley turned, and led to another one, that led to a street, from where he ended up in a parking lot. There were a few cars parked there, and the houses looked unfamiliar. He was lost.

"Do you know where we are?" Ryoma asked, and looked to his left, where there wasn't anyone anymore. "Fucking great," Ryoma cursed and dug out his phone. He'd wasted an hour walking aimlessly. There was a very big possibility he would never get to leave home for anything other than school. And the way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised if his dad decided home schooling was the thing for Ryoma.

He looked back from where he'd come, wondering if Inui and Oishi were still following him. They'd know where he was.

"Inui-san!" Ryoma yelled, holding his phone. He waited, but no one answered. Ryoma groaned and pulled on his hair, turning his gaze back on the parking lot. Someone was standing at the centre of it. A kid; with curly black hair, and white skin, wearing an old leather jacket, worn down jeans, and a pair of old tennis shoes that had probably once been white. "Great, a fucking delinquent," Ryoma muttered. He really didn't feel like getting robbed.

"No one's coming for you," the kid said. "You're all alone," he smirked.

"I don't have any money, you idiot! Go rob someone else!" Ryoma yelled, typing his mom's phone number on the phone.

"Yeah, well I'm not looking for money," the kid answered, smirking wider.

"I don't do drugs," Ryoma said. "Score somewhere else." He lifted the phone to his ear, waiting for it to connect, but the phone was snagged from him, and thrown on the ground. Ryoma stared at the shatters of his phone, and then at the boy in front of him. The kid was grinning, and licking his lips. Ryoma was beginning to suspect that this wasn't a mugging.

"You like sunbathing?" Ryoma asked, and the kid shook his head.

"Haven't seen the sun in centuries. Don't think it's changed that much, though," he shrugged, still grinning.

"Wouldn't know," Ryoma answered, surprised he could keep his voice calm. Reason said, he should be screaming and running, but he couldn't make himself feel scared. Despite wrecking his phone, the kid didn't seem threatening. The grin, although a little psychotic, was friendly.

"Akaya!" an older, taller man stepped from between two cars.

"Hey, Yanagi-sempai," the kid grinned. "Can I keep him?" he pointed to Ryoma.

"What? I'm not a fucking stray dog!" Ryoma screamed.

"But you're someone's pet," the kid said, stepped closer to tear the bandages off Ryoma's neck, and caressed the wounds with an absent look on his face.

"You should be careful Akaya," the man spoke. "How many vampires do you think there are in this city?"

The kid drew away his hand and jumped back, swearing. "Fucking hell, Yanagi-sempai! You could've warned me!"

"There should be no need for him to warn you, Kirihara." A third man stepped from behind Yanagi. "The scent is all over the boy." The kid growled at the man, who stared at Ryoma, not blinking.

"Two." Yanagi spoke. "Sanada, there are two of them."

"What do you mean?" Sanada asked, tearing his eyes from Ryoma and frowning.

"Fuji," Yanagi said, gazing at Ryoma. "Will you not greet your master?"

"Actually, I was hoping I wouldn't have to," a soft voice spoke, and Ryoma followed it, and saw Fuji grouched on the roof of a van that was parked a few spaces from him. "Besides, I don't think it's me he really wants to see." Fuji cocked his head to stare up the tall building behind him. "What do you think, Atobe?"

Only the shadow could be seen of the man standing on the roof, and even that vanished the moment Ryoma could separate the shades of darkness that formed the man, from the empty sky behind him.

"Sanada, no!" Yanagi screamed, and Ryoma looked to see the man holding on to Sanada, grasping his arm.

"Let go," Sanada ordered, face grim.

Yanagi blinked and stepped back, releasing his hold. "I don't understand what you hope to gain from speaking with him."

"It is not your concern," Sanada answered. "There are things between us that you could never understand."

"You should not go alone, let me come with you, and-"

"No!" Sanada yelled, interrupting Yanagi. He glanced back at Ryoma, and narrowed his eyes. "You have other things to do," he said, before disappearing in the direction Atobe had gone to.


	10. Chapter 10

Beta: EternalAngel

* * *

The house was abandoned, years of neglect had rotten the wood, the doors hung loose on their hinges, and the glass on the windows was broken, the shards lying midst the mud and dirt that covered the wooden floor. The fireplace in the living room was full of broken bottles, beer cans and cigarette stumps. There was a coffee table resting with one foot, and three chairs, only one left that you could still sit on.

Atobe walked past the wreckage to a plastic chair someone had brought to the house. He picked the chair up, dragged it in front of the cold fireplace littered with trash, placed it so that it faced the door and sat down.

Sanada stepped inside the room, never once looking at the man he had followed there.

"How were your dreams?" Atobe asked, as if Sanada had simply woken from an afternoon nap, not from a dream that had lasted decades.

"Fragments," Sanada said, moving to sit on the chair still left, showing only his profile to Atobe. "Of the past. And perhaps, the future."

"You are not a seer, Sanada," Atobe crossed his legs, his right foot resting on his left knee. "The future cannot be seen by you."

"What I wished the future to be, then," Sanada conceded, still not turning to face the other man. "I saw him in my dreams." He did not mention a name, neither of them needed him to. For Sanada there could be only one person he spoke of in that particular tone, with intensity that gave the pronoun a meaning beyond the generic.

"There you go. The dreams of a mortal, Sanada." Atobe leaned his chin against his open palm, looking away. "He is dead. The dead do not return." The same intensity for the word was lacking in Atobe's voice. He refused to give either of them, to Sanada or himself, or to the man they were speaking of the satisfaction of admitting he deserved to be separated from the rest of the world in some way.

"Perhaps." Sanada leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "But sometimes, I hear his voice whisper to me, when the sun rises. And I think…" Atobe looked at Sanada, without turning his head, waited for him to finish the thought. "No, I wish I could go back, prevent it somehow."

Atobe laughed. A loud, hollow laugh, that's echo was filled with bitterness. "You idiot!" Atobe yelled. "There was never anything you could have done!"

"I could have stopped him," Sanada whispered, clasping his hands together, even tighter. "If I had moved faster, been stronger-"

"Too late," Atobe interrupted, voice bitter. "You would have been too late, no matter how fast you would have moved. It was his choice, for it to end in the way it did."

"We do not know that. It might have been an accident, maybe he didn't realize the sun was rising. And why, why would he choose to end it in that way, when he knew I would have- We would have- There were too many of us that loved him." The hurt in Sanada's voice, the suffering on his face, none of it made a difference to Atobe.

"That is why he did it." Atobe said. "He knew you would never cease to second guess your choices, would never let go, and it was what he thought would hurt me the most. And he was right, like always. He always knew how to hurt me." Atobe laughed again, sounding almost desperate in his anger that had no focus.

"He loved you." Sanada said it like an accusation, and rouse from his chair to come stand before Atobe. "We all did. Why could you not be content with that? Why did you have to…" His voice faded, and Atobe looked curiously at his face, wondering why the pain in Sanada's face did nothing to him. He had once been prepared to suffer through anything to make Sanada happy. But years of failure had erased that desire, and now all Sanada's suffering made him feel was irritation. The fact that he could not come first before a dead man.

"I never asked for his love," Atobe said, locking his gaze with Sanada's. "His love came with a price, and that price was my life. He took away my life! You could never understand that!"

"You received more than you lost." Sanada stepped back from Atobe, but did not let his gaze wander from Atobe's eyes. "Immortality, the eyes to behold the night and its beauty, the strength of ten men, those and so much more. Why were you not content with those gifts?"

Atobe growled, stood up and stepped forward until his chest was nearly pressed against Sanada's. "Gifts? You expected me to be grateful for this cursed life?" He lifted his hand to press it against Sanada's cheek. "My touch has no warmth, no life. Cold and dead like stone. The only way my body can imitate life, is by stealing it from another. Some say that the soul resides in the blood. Is it only their blood I take, or do I deprive them of their souls as well?" Atobe narrowed his eyes, and whispered, "How much of a monster am I? We are?"

Sanada covered the hand resting on his cheek with his own, wrapped his fingers around it and held it tightly. "Did you always wonder about these things?" he asked. "Or only after that boy?"

Atobe hissed and tried to pull away his hand, but Sanada held it tightly, and it would take more than a simple tug to release the hand, so Atobe let it remain where it was. "The boy is my business," he spoke stiffly, his frame rigid.

"You resent Yukimura for making you what you are, but intend to do the same to someone else?" Sanada asked and tightened his hold until Atobe grimaced.

"No," Atobe said. "I have never created another creature like us, and I will not start with him. I might be a monster, but I will never be like Yukimura."

"Given the choice, would you really choose to be human? Abandon immortality?" Sanada asked, and searched for the answer in Atobe's eyes, not trusting that Atobe would speak the truth. But Atobe turned his face away, preventing Sanada to see what his eyes held when he answered.

"I do not know. Perhaps, if it was still my time, had there not passed so many years, centuries, I might have said yes. But now?" He shook his head, a sad smile twisting his lips, and finally met Sanada's eyes. "What would be the point?"

"And the boy?" Sanada asked. "Why are you dragging him into all of this?"

"I do not know," Atobe answered truthfully. "But I will not let any of you interfere. It is my game to play."

Sanada smiled grimly and finally released Atobe's hand. "You are too late," he said. "Others have already joined in on the dance you have started."

0

0

Ryoma twitched, feeling the focus of three monsters on him. Fuji's smile was easy to ignore once you got used to it, and Kirihara seemed friendly enough, like an eager puppy that wanted a pat on the head. Sure, a psychotic puppy that might jump at your throat any time, but still a puppy.

But Yanagi's stare was empty. The man looked at him, but it felt like Yanagi didn't _see_ him, no matter how intensely his eyes were focused on Ryoma. "If you care for him, you will make sure to disappear from his life," Yanagi spoke, and it took a moment for Ryoma to realize that the words were meant for him, and even longer to understand their meaning. When he did, Ryoma started laughing, making Yanagi frown and step closer. "You find something amusing in this situation?"

"What the hell makes you think I care about him?" Ryoma asked, grinning. "Or that I have a choice?" he added bitterly.

Yanagi's eyebrows rouse, and Ryoma noticed for the first time that he had not even once opened his eyes. "We can help you with that," Yanagi said. "I can keep him away. Protect you."

Ryoma frowned at the slight tremor he heard in the voice, wondering if it was caused by fear. But after searching for Yanagi's face he soon realized it wasn't fear that made Yanagi's voice tremble, but excitement. Excitement over protecting him? No, Ryoma found that hard to believe.

"Yanagi." Fuji's voice held a cautioning tone, and he stepped slowly down from the van's roof, taking small steps towards Ryoma, never taking his eyes from the man he had addressed. "That is a very foolish offer to make. Even if you would gain Sanada's favour with it, he would not stand in the way of Atobe's wrath."

"Why have you taken a side opposing your master, Fuji?" Yanagi's attention finally shifted from Ryoma, when Fuji stood between them. "What has he done to deserve this disloyalty from you?"

"Sanada never asked for my loyalty, and I did not feel obliged to offer it." Fuji shot his eyes at Ryoma, and when the boy saw he was worried, he trembled. For Fuji to be afraid, when he was not afraid of even Atobe…

"You owe him your loyalty, Fuji." Yanagi's full attention was now on Fuji, and it seemed he had forgotten about Ryoma. "It does not matter that he did not demand it, or that you did not offer it. The blood you share demands it."

"It would not be the first time a fledgling has gone against the will of his maker," Fuji said, keeping his voice calm. "Not all have managed to remain as devoted to their master as you."

"Just because you have made mistakes in choosing those you have gifted with the blood, does not mean you should repeat the mistakes of your children." Yanagi's voice was thin, and his hands fisted. It was clear he was fighting to not lose control of his temper, and Fuji cocked his head curiously to the side. Yanagi had always been self-poised, even more firmly than Tezuka, and to see him struggle so hard to not express his irritation and anger was… interesting. "Do not follow Atobe's path of betrayal," Yanagi warned and pressed two fingers on his temple.

"That's a bit exaggerated, wouldn't you say?" Fuji asked, curious to find out if he could prod another emotional reaction out of Yanagi. "After all, he didn't push his master out in to the sun. Yukimura perished of his own will."

"You dare! You, who do not possess the knowledge and power I do! You are a mere child, and do not have the right to question me!" Yanagi screamed, his face distorted in to a mask of rage that made Fuji stare in fascinated awe. He had never seen such fury on anyone's face.

"Yanagi-sempai!" Kirihara's worried shout cut through Yanagi's rage, and Fuji watched as the lines of rage melted from Yanagi's face, and a smile far too gentle for the man replaced the angry snarl. But the smile soon disappeared, and Yanagi held his normal passive expression again.

Yanagi turned to face Fuji. "Choose your side carefully, Fuji," he said, voice cool and face expressionless. "Atobe might not come out as the winner when this is over."

Fuji nearly asked what Yanagi meant, but instead settled to nodding his head once, slowly, and watched Yanagi leave with Kirihara. He felt the mortal boy's fixed gaze burn on his skin, and knew everything that had happened here would reach Atobe. But what choice did he have, but to agree to Yanagi's terms, when he wished to remain as impartial as he could in this fight. He hadn't yet chosen Atobe's side, even though he had volunteered to the role of Echizen's protector. But that had been caused by his curiosity, the same curiosity that made him prod at Yanagi when the man had acted like a rabid dog.

"Ready to go home, Ryoma?" Fuji asked, smiling at the boy whose eyes were burning with a desire Fuji could not understand.

"I need to find Inui and Oishi," Ryoma said and turned to return to where he had come from. "I need to know they're fine."

"I can do that. You should be home, tucked under the covers with your cat purring at your feet, and your mother doting on you." Fuji came quickly to the boy's side, keeping his voice light and trying to summon a cheery smile on his lips, but knew it was too stressed, even before the boy glared suspiciously at him.

"I don't trust you," the boy said bluntly. "They could be dead. If they are, I-" The boy shivered and shook his head.

"Let me look for them after you are home. If they are dead, then there is nothing you can do, but I know how to get rid of the bodies. And if they are well, I will come and tell you."

"No." The boy shook his head. "I have to see them." His mouth was drawn to a stubborn line that brought a fond memory of Yuuta looking like that to Fuji's mind, and he was shocked to discover that it still hurt, thinking of his brother. He'd had years to grow used to the idea that Yuuta wanted him dead; it should not pain him to be reminded of the good things.

"Why?" Fuji asked. "No matter what we find, you can do nothing, seeing their bodies would only pain you, and-" Fuji stopped speaking when he realised the truth. "You want to know if they are dead, so you can carry the blame for their deaths."

Ryoma stopped and glared at Fuji. "It'd be my fault if they're dead. I've already caused one death, I don't want to be responsible for more, but if I am, I want to know."

"You can't blame yourself for the boy you saw me with, that would be foolish." Fuji tapped his finger against his chin. "And it's not likely you feel guilty about Tezuka's fledglings, they did try to kill you. No, it must be something else. Something Atobe did." Fuji was pleased to see the boy's eyes open wide. He did not need any more confirmation than that. "What happened?" he asked gently.

The boy turned away, and his shoulders slumped. "If I tell you, you'll tell me something in return."

"Deal," Fuji grinned.

"Really? You'll tell me, what ever it is I want to know?" The boy was so astonished that he nearly dropped his school bag.

"Anything at all," Fuji hummed the words, almost singing them. He did not mind sharing something of himself, if he could hear more about the two. He was fascinated at how quickly and deeply Atobe had become involved with the boy, and how the boy seemed so willing to let his fate rest in Atobe's hands.

The boy licked his lips, and swallowed. "I followed him," he finally spoke. "I followed him, and a woman that was with him."

"He killed her," Fuji said, not really asking, but Ryoma replied as if he had.

"Yes," the boy said, head turned the other way and speaking so quietly Fuji had to lean closer so he could hear. "I saw her die. Watched him kill her." Fuji frowned. Terrible as it might have been, that was not enough to make the boy feel responsible for the woman's life. "But before he did, he gave me a choice. I could've saved her. He would've let her go, if I'd died instead."

"And you chose your own life?" Fuji asked, amazed. He fought the desire to laugh, the delight bubbling inside him, almost too strong for him to keep it hidden. He wondered if Ryoma had chosen differently, would the woman Atobe had killed now be in the boy's position. No, he doubted it, and thought it had probably been the boy's answer that made Atobe spare him, made the boy interesting.

Fuji understood that well.

He considered telling the boy that the woman would have probably died even if he would have chosen differently, but knew it made no difference, not for the boy, and not to him. It was the fact that he had consciously chosen his own life over the woman's that was important, what counted.

"You had your answer, now I want mine." Fuji was brought back from his thoughts by the boy's demand.

"Of course. You may ask anything you wish, but," he paused deliberately to stress his next words, and once again, was forced to fight against the desire to laugh out loud when the boy leaned forward eagerly. "You might want to save it, for a time when you have a question no one else will give you an answer for."

"Hnn." The boy leaned back, balanced himself on his heels and chewed his lips, considering Fuji's proposition. "I already have too many of those."

"Echizen-san!" Ryoma turned to stare at Oishi, running towards him. The man stopped before him, wheezing, a hand pressed over his chest. "Are you… alright… Echizen-san?"

"Just fine," Ryoma said, still staring at the man. "Where's Inui?"

"Right here," Inui came down the path Oishi had taken, with a more leisurely pace. "We were attacked, by someone."

"We assumed they were after you, but you're alright, aren't you?" Oishi asked. "We couldn't see them, I know I couldn't, I was hit on the head from behind, but maybe Inui saw them, I didn't ask, did you Inui?"

"No." Inui said, and took out his notebook. "Who are you?"

"You know who I am! You don't have amnesia, do you?" Oishi asked worriedly.

"I'm Ryoma-kun's Fuji-sempai," Fuji answered with a smile.

"So you are from his school?" Inui asked, and Oishi blinked, having only now realised that Ryoma wasn't alone.

"I've been worried about Ryoma-kun, and wanted to take him to see a movie, but the evening was just so beautiful, that we decided to take a stroll." Fuji said.

"Here?" Oishi asked, looking at the narrow alley they were standing on, and at the windowless buildings on both sides of them.

"I'm a fan of architecture," Fuji beamed at Oishi, as if the statement explained everything.

Oishi blinked, Inui scribbled, and Ryoma tried to close his mouth.

"Fuji-sempai?" Ryoma asked, more than just a little hesitance in his voice.

"Yes Ryoma-kun?" Fuji sparkled at him, his smile wide and cheerful.

"Nothing," Ryoma mumbled, and fought against a sudden desire to lift his hand up to feel Fuji's forehead, and see if he had a fever. He didn't think vampires could get sick; they didn't have anything in them that a virus could have infected. But they could go mad.

"We must get Echizen-san home. I'm sure his family is very worried, it's late." Oishi didn't seem suspicious of Fuji anymore, and was only worried for Ryoma. But Inui, though he had placed his notebook back in his pocket, kept his gaze on Fuji, a slight frown on his forehead.

"I'll be happy to take Ryoma-kun home," Fuji said.

"I think we should come with you. We owe an explanation to his parents, as to why we failed to protect him." Inui said and shifted uncomfortably, clearly not happy. Whether he was unhappy about failing or having to confront his parents, Ryoma wasn't sure, but suspected Inui was not used to failure, and that gnawed at him more than the awaited confrontation.

"And we owe you a thank you for keeping Echizen-san safe," Oishi said to Fuji.

"No need. It's my duty as Ryoma-kun's sempai," Fuji answered, his smile more subdued, but no less engaging.

"You should call your parents, Echizen-san," Inui said, before Oishi had a chance to say anything more.

Ryoma cringed at the thought of talking to his mother, or dad, but started to look through his bag before he remembered what had happened to his phone. Kirihara had thrown it against the asphalt of the parking lot.

It was strange to feel gratitude towards Kirihara because he had destroyed his phone, but not a lot about tonight had made any sense. Almost everything the others had spoken of had only raised more questions, and not answered any. He still had no idea what Sanada was to Atobe, why Yanagi had spoken so bitterly about Atobe, and what he'd done. Ryoma wanted to know what was it that Atobe had done to deserve such anger. And why Atobe had disappeared, and Sanada followed.

Atobe had left him with creatures that had no reason to let him live. Any one of them might have killed him just on a whim, and he was powerless against them, the only thing protecting him was the threat that Atobe might be annoyed to discover him dead. He hated this, having to be dependant on someone that didn't care for him. Whether he lived or died, that wouldn't matter to Atobe.

"Ryoma-kun?" Fuji had placed his hand on his arm, and Ryoma stepped back. He stared at the man with his gentle smile, worried frown, and felt sick at how human he looked. Fuji was the perfect predator, who could fool anyone into believing he was harmless. Even Ryoma had forgotten what a monster he was after just a few kind words and gentle smiles, when he'd been terrified of Fuji for over five years.

The old fear crept back, and Ryoma welcomed it this time, realizing that if he feared Fuji, he wouldn't trust him. He couldn't trust either of them; it would hurt too much when they'd betray him.

"Your phone, Echizen-san. Have you lost it?" Inui asked.

"Yeah, I think I left it at school," Ryoma said.

"Then you may use my phone," Inui said, and offered his black cell phone to the boy.

Ryoma stepped back and eyed the phone as if it would bite him. "Uh… any way I could… Could you talk to them?" he finally managed to ask.

Inui frowned, but pulled his hand back. "Very well. But while I speak with them, we should head towards your house."

"Yeah… Which way is it?" Ryoma asked.

Oishi opened his mouth to answer, closed it, and turned to Inui, who shrugged.

"You're kidding?" Ryoma asked. "You don't know where we are?"

"Don't worry, I know where we are," Fuji said. "It's this way." Fuji grabbed Ryoma's arm and pulled the boy to an alley on their right. Ryoma followed, trying to keep up with the fast pace, and soon saw bright, multicoloured lights ahead of them. They stepped from the alley to a street with neon signs, cars, and people. There was buzzing life, noise and activity in the street that shocked Ryoma by the suddenness of how it had appeared, after the silence and emptiness of the alleys.

Fuji slid his hand down so he could entwine his fingers with Ryoma's, and hold them tightly in his grip. Ryoma stopped, forcing Fuji to stop and turn to look at the boy. Ryoma was staring at their joint hands, and licking his lips. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making sure you don't get lost," Fuji answered, and squeezed.

"You could do that without having to hold my hand." Ryoma lifted his eyes to glare at Fuji. "Let go."

Fuji smiled. "No," he said. "I like holding your hand."

"Well I don't like it."

"That doesn't really matter, now does it?" Fuji asked, cocking his head, still smiling.

"Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?" Ryoma glared.

"Why does it matter to you so much that I don't?" Fuji replied. "Just let me hold your hand. There's no harm in it, is there, to grant me that little thing?" Fuji looked so solemn in his plead that Ryoma couldn't deny him, even though it still felt odd. And when he didn't try to pull his hand away, Fuji's pleased smile was so genuine that Ryoma felt a blush creep on his cheeks.

* * *

A/N: My beta says I've managed to keep Sanada in character. But he's a hard one for me to write, and it's always good to have a second opinion, so... Did I manage to keep Sanada in character?


	11. Chapter 11

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Say bye bye to Ryoma. At least for the next four chapters that are all about Atobe, and how he became to be what he is.  
Comments and critique appreciated.

* * *

Atobe had not stayed to listen what else Sanada had to say, after hearing his warning, but rushed to find Ryoma. He had not found the boy or Fuji where he had last seen them, and there had not been any trace of Yanagi or Kirihara anywhere.

For a moment he had worried that Yanagi had killed them, following Sanada's orders and his mind lashed out fervently, searching for the boy. And he nearly fell to his knees with relief when he found the boy's mind, a whirlwind of conflicted emotions and chaotic thoughts.

He rushed towards the presence of the boy's physical body, the call of his blood, his pulsing heart and forced himself to stay away when he found the boy standing with the mortals that had been sent to protect him. He stayed behind them, watched, and grew angrier with every second. Fuji did not even try to hide the sudden fondness and fascination he now held towards the boy. Atobe doubted Fuji realized he was watching. Fuji was reckless, but not to this extent. He would not be so open with his affections if he knew Atobe was watching.

He doubted this was what Sanada had meant, but that did not matter now. Fuji himself had warned Atobe, but he had ignored it, so sure that his power was enough to keep Fuji in line. But he had forgotten Fuji never followed any rules, not even the ones he set on himself. Forgotten that Fuji liked dancing on the edge of the blade. The man took nearly as much pleasure in defying Atobe as he did in devouring the blood of his victims. It was a miracle he had survived as long as he had with his habit of annoying beings more powerful than he was.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't such a miracle after all. The only creature ruthless enough to slit Fuji's throat simply for misspeaking no longer existed. Others, powerful as they were, did not like to destroy their own kind. Atobe's slaughter of the two in his territory must have been a shock to most. It was not something that was done; killing your own, feeding of them.

Vampires had become almost domesticated during the centuries. Blood of an immortal was more valued than it once was. A vampire, even a young one, hardly had to fear death from any creature, the only force that threatened their existence was the sun. The daylight and exposure to humans. Those were the things that frightened vampires.

It had not always been so. Atobe remembered a time when younger ones had trembled in his presence in the same manner that Kaidoh had. That he'd had the sense to fear for his life told Atobe that his master had been someone who had experienced fear for his immortal life. It raised an interesting question where Tezuka had learned such fear from. Fuji had been too in love with the man to do anything other than purr at his side. If he had wanted, Tezuka could have turned Fuji into a slave. It was Fuji's luck Tezuka had too much honour to do anything like that. Atobe would not have hesitated if Fuji had been so taken by him.

"If you wish to know who taught Tezuka to fear those stronger than him, I can tell you." Sanada came to stand between him, and the group of four Atobe had been observing. "Come with me, and I will tell you all you wish to know."

Atobe nearly snarled and tried to move past him, but Sanada's hand on his arm prevented him from moving. "A few hours, Keigo, that is all I ask."

Atobe pulled his arm from Sanada's grip to look past him at Fuji, still holding Ryoma's hand and gazing at the boy gently. The anger he felt towards Fuji was so strong he feared it might burn him, and knew that if he went to them now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from destroying Fuji, not even when there were so many humans here.

"You wish us to share fond memories of the past, Sanada?" Atobe asked, refusing to use his first name as Sanada had. They no longer shared intimacy that allowed it. And even when they had, it had been shadowed by the presence and the will of someone else, who Sanada could never allow himself to let go of.

"There were fond memories, even if you are determined not to admit it."

Atobe laughed bitterly. "Fond memories, Sanada? For you and him perhaps. For me, when you arrived was when I learned you do not need to die to reach hell."

**1788 **

**-**

**England**

Sanada pulled on the reins of his horse, stopping on the hill from where he could see the house. Built on a valley, surrounded by green grass and tall trees, the house was like an image from a sweet dream. The light of the moon reflecting from the glass in the large windows shone brightly, sparkling like candlelight reflecting on the surface of a diamond. He had heard tell how its white walls shone in the golden sunlight, and suddenly wished to witness the sight with his own eyes, to see it in some other light than that of the moon's cold silver.

Another rider stopped beside him, to behold the sight, and Sanada spoke to him, not taking his eyes from the house."Lord Atobe will no doubt wish to become acquainted with us, as we will be his lodgers. They speak of him with great respect. It will not be easy to deceive him."

"We will be careful. There will be no need for him to be suspicious," the man next to him answered, and pulled down the hood of his cloak, eyes on the valley Sanada had been watching, the light of the moon falling on a face that held beauty for which even angels would have been jealous of. "The location is perfect, far from other settlements. We will not find another place as secluded as this. We need time. I need time, for my body to heal from the damage the fire caused."

"And Kirihara? Is it wise to leave him?" Sanada asked.

"Yanagi will watch him." The man turned, revealing the left side of his face. Angry red burns covered the skin that had once been as smooth and white as ivory, and Sanada looked away, saddened that his master had to suffer because he had not been there to protect him. "It was not your fault. I sent you away myself."

"I should have known, listened more to what the villagers spoke of us, known what they were planning." Sanada bent his head in shame. "It is too dangerous. Your safety lies in the hands of this man."

"You worry over nothing." The man turned his horse from the valley. "The payment of our lodging has been taken care of for six months in advance. If he should come visit, we will simply not be there. An eccentric man, and his servant, that is how he will think of us. Curious as he might be, he will soon forget we even existed."

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The young Earl of Atobe finished his meal, rose from the dinner table he sat alone in, and walked across the room and through the large double doors that stood open, stepping inside the entrance hall. He turned his head sharply, and as a result the black ribbon that had been used to tie his hair back flew into his mouth. Hoping no one was watching, he spat the fabric from his mouth, and continued his stride towards a small table at the centre of the hall that held a silver tray with an envelope on it.

With a small, pleased smile on his lips he picked up the envelope and tore it open. But the smile on his face soon disappeared as he read, and a frown appeared on his forehead. He sneered, threw the letter back on the tray, and yelled, "Kabaji!"

"Usu." A man, tall enough to tower over most men, appeared in the hall.

"I'm going to visit my neighbour! Take out my riding boots!" Atobe ordered. "And have someone ready my horse!"

"Usu." Kabaji bowed, and climbed up the stairs to where his master's bedroom was located.

After being left alone, Atobe glared at the letter, before picking it up again, and reading it more thoroughly this time. It was a letter from one of his cousins, asking for money. "Gambling, no doubt," Atobe muttered, and found his guess to be correct, as he read further. The temptation to not pay was great, but the shame of having one of his relations in jail because of debt was far greater than his desire to teach the idiot he was not made of gold.

But that was not the real reason for his irritation. No, it was because for two weeks now he had waited for a letter from someone else, from a Mister Yukimura. It did not need to be a terrible long letter, or even the invitation he had first expected to receive when hearing the people that had rented the cottage had arrived. Just a small note, to prove that this Yukimura was not completely without manners. He was entitled to some courtesy from the person he had allowed to live in the house where his grandmother had spent the remainder of her life.

Atobe considered himself a patient and gracious man, but this was beyond insulting.

"Hiyoshi!" Atobe yelled, heading towards the stairs.

"Yes, My Lord?" The monotone voice of his steward asked from the opposite side of the hall, and Atobe swirled around.

"Still no word from the man staying at the cottage?"

"No My Lord, not since the letter in which he told us he would not need a cook, or servants, other than the girl who cleans the house weekly." Hiyoshi answered, and walked across the hall to his lord with a folder filled with papers. "There are urgent matters that require your attention, My Lord."

"I will see to them tonight," Atobe said, and made his way to the stairs that led to the second floor.

Atobe missed the look of burning contempt his steward directed at his back, but had he noticed, he would not have cared. It was no secret to anyone that Hiyoshi despised Atobe, and neither was the reason for that contempt.

Hiyoshi and Atobe shared a father, but not a mother. While Atobe's mother had been the Earl's wife, Hiyoshi's mother had been a peasant girl from the village; one who did not have the wit, or the courage to deny the lord access to her bed.

If Hiyoshi's mother had lived, and not died when the boy was three, who knew what his life would have been like. Perhaps the Earl would have been gracious enough to pay for his son's education, or he might have ended up cleaning the stables of another lord, or those of his brother. But Hiyoshi's mother had died, and on her death bed she had demanded of the priest present that he not allow the Earl to shun his son, but take him to his house and care for him, or her spirit would haunt them both.

The Earl had followed the woman's wishes, taken the boy unto his care, but had never acknowledged the boy as his son, and it was only from the servants' whispers that Hiyoshi learned the truth of his father.

There were times when Hiyoshi cursed his mother for her dying wish. Every day of the boy's life in the large house had been filled with uncertainty. He did not fit in anywhere, not when he slept and ate with the servants, but studied with the Earl's son. His brother never bothered to even speak with him, and the other children were too aware of how the adults treated him; like an odd animal that you did not know what to do with.

When the old Earl finally died, leaving the title and fortune to his legitimate son, Keigo, and Hiyoshi was offered the position of a steward in the Atobe household he took it, knowing nothing else that he could do that would bring food to his table, and clothes on his back.

The Atobe household was large; larger than was required to take care of a country house, but the Atobes had always been fond of showing of their wealth. As a steward Hiyoshi was responsible for the entire estate, the fields, the horses, the servants. He was fond of that power, knowing that left to his own devices his brother could never have handled the affairs of the large estate.

But not a day went by that he did not wish to be called Lord in his brother's stead.

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"Shishidoooo!!!"

Shishido stuck out his foot, and the kid that came running through the stable doors tripped and fell on the soft and muddy ground of the stables. The fall didn't affect the kid's enthusiasm, and he was soon standing up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Lord Atobe wants his horse!" The voice was loud, and Shishido grimaced. It was hard to believe Kintaro was only a few years younger than him, already eighteen, and not a twelve year old kid.

"Then you better take the horse to him," Shishido said, pointing at the already saddled horse in the middle of the stable, still leaning against the wall with his ankles and arms crossed, his long hair stuffed under a brown cap.

With one last grin at him, Kintaro ran to the horse that took a few steps back from the energetic boy. But when Kintaro patted the horse, it settled. Like the other horses, Atobe's white mare liked the boy, and he was the only one that could get even a stampede horse to settle with just a few words. If Kintaro had been a little less hyper, he might have been the head groom instead of Shishido.

And there were times Shishido felt insecure, because of Kintaro's abilities with the horses, so he did these… test runs.

He watched Kintaro lead the horse to Atobe, and grinned when he saw Atobe's eyes widen before Kintaro's wide smile, and endless chatter. The kid patted the white mare, and Shishido guessed he was telling Atobe about what the horse had been eating, and how it'd been acting, and what it was feeling right now. He knew both well enough to know what Kintaro said, and what Atobe was thinking.

Atobe finally succeeded in taking the reins from the eager groom, and getting on the horse. He rode to where Shishido had moved to stand, just outside the wide stable doors. Atobe bent down to speak in a low tone. "You keep praising his talents with the horses, but are you _sure,_ you couldn't just…" Atobe waved his hand, "get rid of him?"

Shishido fought to keep the satisfied grin from his face. No, there was never going to be any threat of him losing his position to Kintaro. "He's invaluable," Shishido said.

Atobe eyed him suspiciously. "Why do I suspect you are only saying that to annoy me?"

"I would never do that, My Lord," Shishido answered.

"Ahn? You've done worse," Atobe replied, a playful glint in his eyes, behind the frown. It reminded Shishido of the past, when both him and Atobe had been children. "Don't think I've forgotten who was really responsible for convincing the maids that the attic is haunted."

"Neither have I, My Lord," Shishido said, remembering very clearly how he and Atobe had torn the sheets, wandered the hallways in the middle of the night, and waited for someone to see them in their ghostly costumes.

"Shishido!"

Both Atobe and Shishido turned to look at where the shout had come from, and saw a silver haired boy walking towards them, hand waving, and a cheerful smile on his face.

Atobe straightened his back, frowning at the still distant figure. "There's a stallion at Hardgraves I want you to take a look at. I'm considering on purchasing it," he said, and was gone before Shishido even had an answer for him.

Ohtori reached Shishido, and when his friend did not turn to smile at him like he usually did, but stared after Atobe, Ohtori placed a hand on Shishido's shoulder and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ohtori," Shishido mumbled. "It's just that, for a moment, it was almost like we were kids again."

"You were friends with Lord Atobe, weren't you?" Ohtori asked, smiling.

Shishido shrugged. "That was before his mother died, and he moved to London. When he came back as the Earl after his father passed away… Well, he was the Lord then."

Ohtori turned his eyes to the road, where he could still see Atobe on his horse. "I don't think he likes me very much," he said.

Shishido looked at Ohtori, pursing his lips together. "Does it matter?" he finally asked. "All you have to worry about is making sure the garden looks great."

"You make it sound like I'm responsible for the whole garden, but I'm just one of the gardeners," Ohtori said, shifting his feet, and looking at the ground between them.

"Well you do most of the work. Even the old man's been telling everyone how you'll be in charge of the garden when he retires." Shishido said, encouraging his friend.

Ohtori shrugged, not looking up. "Maybe, if things were different, but…"

"But what?" Shishido asked.

"Hiyoshi told me that… He's talked about it with Lord Atobe, and he isn't for it."

"You're not listening to Hiyoshi, are you?" Shishido shouted. "He isn't the Earl, no matter how much he wants to be."

"It might be better if he was," Ohtori muttered.

"Ohtori," Shishido hissed, and quickly looked around them to make sure no one had heard. He glared at one of the stable boys lurking near, grabbed Ohtori by the elbow and dragged him behind the stables where he knew no one could hear them. "You shouldn't say things like that. Atobe could get rid off you if someone tells him what you said."

"I know," Ohtori whispered, looking embarrassed. "It's just that… Lord Atobe has made it clear he doesn't like me, and Hiyoshi is the only one willing to be helpful."

Shishido breathed deeply and took off his hat so he could run his fingers through the long hair. "I don't know what to tell you," he said. "The fact is Hiyoshi's never going to be Earl. He's Atobe's half brother, sure, but he's a bastard. If Atobe dies without an heir, his cousin's gonna inherit everything, and we'll all be working for him."

"I just don't understand why he doesn't like me." Ohtori looked at his friend with a miserable face.

Shishido sighed, wanting to say something that would make Ohtori feel better, but couldn't think of anything. The truth was, he'd noticed it too, but didn't understand why Atobe disliked Ohtori so much. In Shishido's view there wasn't anyone more likeable than Ohtori, who was always cheerful, and kind to everyone.

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Atobe stopped his horse, and turned to glare at the magnificent garden he knew would not be the amazing sight it was, without Ohtori. He hated it, hated himself for being so obvious. It was pathetic to envy a servant and his life, when he had more than Ohtori could ever have.

Growing up in the country without other siblings had made it difficult for him to find friends. There were no other families of their station that had children of his age, and the villagers and their children never forgot who he was; the Earl's son. But there had been one boy who had never really cared about that.

One of Atobe's first memories was about Shishido, and the stench of horse's dung.

Atobe had demanded that Shishido, who was just a groom's boy, would fetch him his pony. After some more name-calling from both, Shishido had punched Atobe, sending him head first into a pile of horse's dung. Atobe hadn't taken it very gracefully, but flung a fistful of the same substance he had been forced to bathe his face in at Shishido, and that had started a dung war between them.

At the end of it, when both had gotten a spanking from Shishido's father, they were inseparable. Together they had raided the kitchen for sweets, torn white sheets to play ghosts in the dark hallways at night, and painted moustaches on the faces of Atobe's ancestors whose portraits hung in the gallery. Almost everything they did together ended with neither of them being able to sit on a chair for a few days.

When Atobe turned fifteen, his mother died, and Atobe's father decided he could no longer live in the country house that was full of memories of her, so he moved them to London.

The marriage between Atobe's father and mother had never been a marriage of great love, but it had been a marriage that worked, even despite the Earl's obvious infidelity, of which Hiyoshi was undeniable proof, and whose presence in the house was a constant reminder and an insult to Atobe's mother. The fact that Atobe's father grieved so deeply for her wife, was something Atobe found unbelievable and he spent the first year after her death resenting his father, convinced he was a hypocrite. He never bothered to wonder why her death meant so little to him. He never thought a mother should be something more than a pretty woman who smelled nice, and gave you a kiss on the cheek when you'd done well.

Atobe's father died two years after his wife, making his son the new Earl of Atobe at the age of seventeen. After speaking with his family's lawyer, and his uncle that had been appointed as Atobe's guardian until he was of age, Atobe decided to stay in London. When he received news that the steward that had handled the country house and the estate had died, on a whim, Atobe wrote to Hiyoshi, asking if he would like to take on the position that had been left vacant. He had never expected Hiyoshi to accept.

Another year passed, and Atobe began missing the house in which he had grown up, its white walls, high windows, bright corridors, and the green fields beyond the garden that surrounded the house. With only his valet Kabaji, - whom he'd acquired in London - Atobe left for home. He hadn't bothered to write in advance, to inform Hiyoshi of his arrival, didn't think it necessary, and perhaps a part of him wanted to surprise the steward, to make sure if he was doing his job as well as the letters Atobe had received seemed to indicate.

He had ridden to the house, and marvelled how little it differed from the one that existed in his memories. The white house bathed in the golden sunlight, and when he had stopped his horse in front of the stable, a groom had immediately appeared to take the reins, bowed when he'd stepped down, and murmured respectfully, "Welcome home, Lord Atobe."

It was not until he had stood at the front door, that he had looked back, and recognized the long haired groom as his childhood friend Shishido. For a moment, he felt a desire to turn back and clasp hands with the boy, but then Hiyoshi had appeared before him, looking as grim as always, and presented him with a pile of papers that needed to be signed. He had forgotten about Shishido, and probably would have never thought of him again, were it not for Ohtori.

Seeing the two together, laughing and joking, remembering how it was him that had been laughing with Shishido, turned him into a spoiled brat that wanted back the toy he'd given up when he saw someone else having fun with it. He'd even gone as far as to contemplate firing Ohtori, but realized his foolishness just before calling for Hiyoshi.

The mare threw its head back, and Atobe patted it, trying to calm the animal, but had no luck. It was restless. Was it because it sensed Atobe's grim mood, or because it had been a few days since Atobe had ridden her, he could not know. But the thought of galloping through the meadows and hills to where the cottage was appealed to him, so Atobe pressed his heels against the mare's sides, leaned forward, and soon they were galloping down the hill.

The speed in which they moved made his eyes water, and deafened him to all other sounds but the swishing of the wind in his ears. It emptied his mind of the dark thoughts, and he inhaled deeply in the fresh, already crisp air, realising night was not far. He had waited too long, to go visit his new neighbour. The man might think him odd, for coming with the dusk. Still, turning back never occurred to him. He had decided that tonight he would meet the man living in the cottage. Two weeks was enough time to let him settle.

Reaching the top of yet another hill, Atobe slowed the mare's gallop to a trot, and paused to look at the house, smaller than the one he lived in, but still too large to be accurately called as a cottage.

There was no smoke coming from the two chimneys that stood on the dark roof, and no light shone in the high windows. From afar the house looked like no one had stepped through its doors for years, but Atobe was not discouraged by the lack of visible signs of life. It only made him more curious, and he wanted to know who would live in a dark and cold house, when they could bask in the warmth of blazing fires.

He dismounted, and walked his horse towards the building, narrowing his eyes at the windows. It was nearly dark now, he would be able to see even the smallest flicker of light coming from inside, but his gaze met nothing but darkness.

His mare moved restlessly, stepping back and Atobe, not paying attention, lost his hold on the reins, and the horse backed from the house, eyes dancing wildly on its head. Atobe stared at the mare, and then at the house, wondering if someone was hiding in the shadows and had scared the animal. He walked to her side, and patted her, speaking in a calming tone. "Nothing there I can't handle, calm down." He took hold of the reins again, and walked the mare farther from the house. The animal calmed with every step that grew the distance between them and the house.

"Probably hounds," Atobe murmured, knowing the mare had never liked dogs. Yukimura must own them, and their stench had frightened the mare. He let his eyes wander, and smiled when he saw the old tree he had nearly forgotten. It had been his favourite climbing tree, and the place where he had spent most of the time he should have spent keeping his grandmother company. But she had never had any patience for children, and was happy to let Atobe hang from trees, or run freely in the large back garden.

Atobe led the mare to the tree that was far enough from the house, that whatever it was about the house that made her restless didn't bother the animal, and tied the reins in to a large branch. After one last pat on the horse's neck, he left her and approached the house.

He walked up the few steps leading to the front door, knocked and waited for someone to greet him. When no one came, he stepped back to peer through the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. But there was no change, no light or shadows moving inside the house.

Atobe frowned, but instead of returning to his horse, he headed for the back garden. If he would not be allowed to satisfy his curiosity concerning the people in the house, he would see how badly the garden had deteriorated. He doubted anyone had cared for it while the house had stood empty, and wondered if he should have done something about it, before letting people stay there.

But the garden that his eyes came to rest on was nothing he had expected to see. Nothing compared to the beauty he saw each morning from his breakfast table, but still beautiful. He closed his eyes and breathed in, amazed by the calm that came over him, from the flowers scent and the crisp night air, the smell of grass and dirt. He opened his eyes again and let the sereneness he felt become apparent in the smile that spread on his face. He had thought to see a wild, un-kept garden, not this harmony of shapes and colours that eased his mind.

A shiver ran down his back and shuttering, he turned to look behind him, but not even the long grass in the distant meadow moved. He must have imagined the wind, even the clouds stood still, softening the light of the moon so instead of cold silver light, everything was shaded in rich blue.

A sudden ray of golden candle light shone at the window behind him, and Atobe turned to look back at the house, only to turn away from it again when a soft voice spoke from behind him. "Lord Atobe?"

He gazed at the slim figure, the face shadowed by the hood of the dark cloak pulled back to reveal a dark coat, trousers, and riding boots, similar to those he wore, but of a darker leather. The voice would have fitted both a woman and a man, and so would have the lean build, but the way he held himself, Atobe had no doubt this was a young man standing before him.

"Mister Yukimura?" Atobe asked, after nodding.

"Please, call me simply Yukimura, Lord Atobe," the man said, with a small chuckle, and raised his hand up to his hood. Atobe expected to see the gentle smile he so clearly heard from the voice, but instead, the man pulled the cloak down to cover more of his face. "Please forgive me, but I have been in an accident and my face… I do not wish for anyone to see me as I am." Atobe frowned, and nearly argued. "That is one of the reasons we chose this place. The solitude."

The hint wasn't subtle, but Atobe merely shrugged. He had no qualms about disturbing Yukimura's privacy. This situation could have been avoided if Yukimura had written a simple, courteous letter. "The garden looks even better than what it was when my grandmother lived here. Your servant is quite capable in tending it?" he asked, instead, and heard another warm laugh from the man.

"Oh no, Sanada does not tend to the garden, his duties are… somewhat more demanding." The man turned his back on Atobe and stepped deeper in to the garden, almost disappearing amongst the shadows with his dark cloak.

"Then someone else has taken care of it?" Atobe asked while following the man, eyes on the dark fabric, hoping the man would not vanish from his sight.

"One of your gardeners. He comes every night, sometimes stays after night fall." Yukimura finally stopped, and kneeled beside a flower bed that held white lilies. Yukimura extended a hand, and touched one of the petals with his finger, and Atobe noticed the similarity of the skin, and that of the lily. Both pearly white, flawlessly beautiful and pale. He knew what it felt to touch the pedal of a lily, felt a fleeting desire to know if Yukimura's skin would be as silky and soft under his touch. "His ability to make the garden flourish is truly remarkable. You must be glad to have him."

"Yes," Atobe answered, before he even realized what Yukimura had said. "Wait, who are you speaking of?"

"Young Ohtori," Yukimura said. "He was not here tonight. I hope he is alright. It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to him."

"No, he is fine," Atobe spoke, gritting his teeth, a part of him hoping something had happened to Ohtori. Why was everyone so taken by Ohtori? "You are pleased with him, then?" Atobe asked, deciding to pretend he had known of this the whole time. It made sense, to have someone take care of the garden here. There was no reason why Hiyoshi should have told him of it, no reason why it should even matter.

"I can think of no one better suited." Yukimura stood up and walked past Atobe, towards the house. "But is that really why you came, lord Atobe? To ask if we are satisfied with our gardener?" He asked, voice soft, amused, and Atobe frowned. The man's voice held certainty that suggested his comment was a result of something more than just a simple guess. "It appears that Sanada has lighted the candles."

Atobe turned to look at the house and to his astonishment saw golden light stream from every single window of the house. He had not had his back turned at the house for more than a few moments, how could a single man have done all that in so little time? "Sanada is your servant?" he asked to hide his puzzlement.

"He is that, and something more," Yukimura replied mysteriously, not bothering to elaborate on the statement. "Would you honour me with your company as I indulge myself in a glass of wine, lord Atobe?" Yukimura gestured towards the back entrance of the house with his hand, and once again Atobe was struck by the paleness of the skin.

Atobe looked at the house, frowning more deeply as memories of the time he had spent there emerged from his mind. Very few of those memories were the kind that he looked back on with fondness, or even with any feeling stronger than dullness. His grandmother had never held a strong part in his life, and much like his mother, she had only been someone who was there, no one he felt much love or fondness for.

With nothing to repel him against the house, he wondered at the hesitance he felt about accepting Yukimura's invitation. Had this not been his intention from the very beginning? To come to know this man?

"Perhaps another time. It is late, I should be returning home," he finally told Yukimura.

"A shame. I hope you will find the time to join me some other evening." Yukimura drew the cloak tighter around him, and shivered slightly, making Atobe feel the chill of the air.

"Perhaps tomorrow?" Atobe asked, surprised by himself, that he had suggested it. But Yukimura intrigued him, with his comments that held not much meaning, but seemed to hide more behind them.

"I shall be here," Yukimura said, and turned his head so the moon shone on his face, revealing a patch of perfect, white skin, the curve of a delicate chin, and a corner of his lips, tilted upwards in a smile. It contradicted Yukimura's claim that his face was anything other than perfect. Atobe could not see a fault in the part that the moonlight revealed. "But daylight does not suit my mood, it is too bright, and its harshness too revealing. I enjoy the gentle light of the candles and that of the moon, when it shines like this, softly through the shroud of clouds."

"I will remember that," Atobe said, hesitated, but then added, "Yukimura." It was strange, to call this man simply by his name. It was almost impossible to believe that Yukimura held no title to his name.

The backdoor of the house opened, and Atobe saw a man silhouetted in the doorway. Yukimura glimpsed at the figure briefly, before turning to face Atobe again. "Will you not reconsider joining me?" he asked, voice more beckoning than before. "It is not even past midnight, and the moon is full tonight. You will not have trouble finding your way home later."

"I would not have trouble finding my way home even in the darkest of nights," Atobe replied, knowing he had already accepted. "But my horse…" he spoke, remembering the mare, strapped on to the tree.

"You worry for your mount? Sanada will see to him."

"Her," Atobe corrected Yukimura. "She was spooked by something in the house, and I had to leave her tied to a tree, farther away."

Yukimura turned to the house once again, and the man in the doorway stepped inside the house, disappearing, presumable to take care of Atobe's mare. "She was frightened?"

"Yes. I thought that perhaps you have dogs. She has never liked their smell."

Yukimura shook his head. "No, I find myself too enthralled by humans to have time for other animals."

Atobe found it a strange way to say it, as if Yukimura did not consider himself to be human. "People can be fascinating at times," he agreed, nonetheless.

When a wind caught hold of the cloak wrapped around Yukimura's figure, he shivered, and took hold of the hood to make sure it was not thrown from his face. "We should continue this conversation indoors, lord Atobe. Sanada has no doubt prepared a warm fire in front of which we may sit and enjoy the wine." Yukimura followed his own suggestion and climbed the few stairs leading to the door, still open.

Atobe glanced at the darkened sky once more, wondering briefly if this was wise. He knew nothing of Yukimura, or of his servant. Nothing to suggest they were trustworthy. But he had told people where he was going, and it would not hurt to ease that little fact into the conversation.

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The wine was sweet, the fire warm, and Yukimura's presence, his gentle, coaxing voice, and alluring laughter more intoxicating than the wine in his glass, which Yukimura kept filling to the brim each time Atobe set it down on the table, with only half of its contents consumed. The wine, the warmth of the company and the fire embraced him with their lure, and he felt content and relaxed, more so than he had for a long time.

There were instances during the night, when he wished to lean forward, and pull down the hood covering Yukimura's face. It was more than mere curiosity, Atobe realised soon. His desire to see Yukimura's face was there because he wanted to know more of Yukimura. The man's voice, his gestures, everything about him intrigued Atobe, made him want to know more, to know him fully.

It did not matter that he had known Yukimura only a few hours, that he might never see him again. What Atobe wanted, was that Yukimura would always remember him, that he would be remembered, that his presence would be the one that would always stay in Yukimura's mind, not the other way around. He was fascinated by Yukimura, and wanted Yukimura to be fascinated by him.

"You refused my offer to provide you with a staff," Atobe said, glancing to his right, where the man Yukimura had named as Sanada stood. He had appeared at the doorway soon after Atobe and Yukimura had sat down before the fire, and had not moved from the place since then. The light did not reach the man, and his face remained in the shadows, much in the same way Yukimura's did. "Is your servant so capable that he can provide for everything you need?"

"There isn't much I need," Yukimura said. "And what I do need Sanada is more than capable of providing." There was amusement in his statement, the kind that could not be heard from his voice, but which Atobe could feel like the warm glow of the fire against his side.

"Yet you haven't refused Ohtori's help with the garden," Atobe said, more bitterness in his voice than he would have wished to reveal to a stranger.

"No." Yukimura raised his hand, and Atobe followed the movement of the limb, fascinated by the slenderness of the fingers, and the paleness of the skin that even the fire's glow could not mask. "As much as I would wish, I cannot care for the plants as well as he does. He has a gift."

"I'm lucky to have him." Atobe tightened his hold around the glass, and jumped when the fragile glass shattered in his hand, slashing a cut across his palm, and the wine spilled on his skin and on the carpet. Atobe stared at his hand, and the red liquid that dripped from his fingers, blood and wine mingled together. He hissed at the pain, brought his hand up to cradle it against his chest, but white fingers closed around his wrist, gripping painfully.

"Please, let me," Yukimura whispered, knelt before him and wrapped a white handkerchief around Atobe's hand.

Atobe followed silently as the slender fingers, their whiteness now marred with the red stains of both blood and wine, tied the cloth around his palm, and pressed his hand to a fist. "I shall avoid that topic in the future," Yukimura chuckled, and Atobe would have liked to tilt his chin up, so he could see if Yukimura was truly smiling, if his mouth was tilted upwards and there was a warm glow in his eyes, the kind his voice made Atobe imagine. "This is only temporary, of course."

"Is it?" Atobe asked, reaching out to take Yukimura's hand before the man could take it away. He did not want it to be temporary, he wanted to come again, to sit with Yukimura, feel his hands on his skin, listen to the soft voice.

"Of course." Yukimura pressed his thumb against the white cloth, above the spot where the glass had torn flesh, and Atobe flinched. "The wound must be taken care of properly."

The embarrassment Atobe felt when he understood he and Yukimura had held different conversations would have been mortifying, were it not for the way Yukimura still held his hand, and the words he spoke next. "And I would not wish for any illness to prevent you from visiting me again."

Atobe leaned down, and when he thought he might have separated the curve of a cheekbone, outlined by the flickering candlelight, Yukimura flinched backwards and stood up, letting go of Atobe's hand, and turning away, covering his face more carefully with the hood.

The gesture was like one of a frightened animal, flinching from a loud shout, and Atobe tensed in his chair, worried that he had gone too far in his curiosity. And yet at the same time he was irritated, convinced the image of frailty Yukimura now displayed was a false one.

"I should leave," he said, standing up, and taking a hesitant step towards Yukimura, perhaps expecting the man to back away. But either Yukimura had gained back his confidence, or seen that his act of frailty was not as well received as he had hoped and had forsaken it, for he gave his hand to Atobe, who clasped it.

"I hope to see you again, some evening." Yukimura released Atobe's hand and left him to stand alone in the room, walking towards a door in the back that Atobe knew led to the library. When Yukimura had stepped inside the library, and closed the door behind him, he took with him the strange enchantment that had taken hold of Atobe from the first moment they had met. Atobe breathed deeply, his thoughts flowing clearly again. He stared at his hand, the white cloth wrapped around it, and smiled weakly, noticing how his hand trembled.

A creak of a floorboard reminded Atobe he was not alone yet. Looking towards the hall, he saw the man whose existence he had nearly forgotten, staring at him. Sanada's face was no longer in the shadows, but it might as well have been, because there was no emotion on the face, nothing to make him think the man was alive. He could have just as well been a statue.

If Sanada's features had not been so pleasing to Atobe, he might have mistaken the man for Kabaji. And there was something else in the man as well, a presence that Kabaji could never master. No matter what he had thought before, this man was no servant. "You have no cook." Atobe said. "Do you prepare your master's food?"

A slight smile appeared on the lips of the stone statue and a flicker of amusement in the dark eyes. "I do," the man answered, his voice low and sensual.

Atobe laughed a little as he passed the man. Whoever the man was, he could not imagine him to be a servant, not when he could insert so much arrogance in to a simple statement.

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As the door closed behind him and Yukimura was enclosed in the darkness of the room, he leaned against the door. A moment longer in the same room with Atobe, and the young man might not have left the house alive, not when the scent of his blood had awakened the hunger in Yukimura.

Yukimura tasted blood, and laughed breathlessly, realising he had allowed his fangs to tear open the flesh in his mouth, something he had not done even when he had been new to the world of darkness and blood, and had not yet known the limitations of his new body.

He pulled off the hood from his head, not seeking its cover now that there was no one here to see him, and with a sigh of contentment pressed his fingers against his mouth, brought out his tongue to lick them clean. His own blood mingled with the taste of wine and Atobe's blood tasted sweeter than he had even imagined. And how he had imagined, longed for the taste from the very moment blood was spilled before him. To think this glory had been sitting before him the whole night; enraptured by his voice, dazed by the wine, the warmth, by him.

Hungrily he licked his fingers clean, the blood soon gone, but he still felt it burning in his veins, become a part of him. He hungered for the man, to have all of him coursing through his veins, to taste that mixture of his own blood mingled with the man's.

Sanada did not knock on the door, he did not need to; Yukimura could feel him standing on the other side of the wood that separated them. If he concentrated, he could have read Sanada's mind, spoken to him without the use his voice, but Yukimura enjoyed hearing Sanada's deep voice speak, liked to see the expressions his words raised on Sanada's face, no matter how miniscule those expressions might be, as they mostly were with Sanada.

Yukimura opened the door and lifted his hand to cradle Sanada's cheek. "He is gone?"

"If you wish, I will follow to see he will return safely to his home," Sanada said, and even though there was nothing in his voice that suggested it, Yukimura knew Sanada thought him foolish. After all, they had agreed to never see Atobe, should the man appear at their doorstep. Yukimura himself had suggested it, and then broken that resolve first chance he got. "Or bring him back to you." Sanada let his eyes wander to the side of Yukimura's mouth, and when Yukimura flicked his tongue out, he could taste his own blood on his cold skin.

"Not yet," Yukimura said, and stepped past Sanada. "I am not ready for him." A small mirror on the wall showed Yukimura his face. The marks on his face had faded, no longer did they contrast so strongly with the paleness, but his skin had not yet returned to the smooth perfection of marble. "When he becomes mine, it must be perfect." Yukimura traced one of the scars with his finger, even paler than his nearly white skin, and felt the difference between that mark, and the perfect skin too clearly. "I do not wish him to see a monster. He would not love a monster."

"Yukimura, I…" Sanada looked confused, perhaps even worried. And that amused Yukimura. That Sanada thought him mad.

"And he will love me, and the rest of our family."

With those words Sanada finally realised what Yukimura meant, but despite the relief he felt, he could not help but ask, "Are you certain?" His voice was hesitant, but Yukimura could see that the prospect of their family growing pleased Sanada, and the fire of excitement that burned, buried deep in Sanada's core.

"This is not a choice one makes with cold logic, Sanada." Yukimura turned away from Sanada and chose the chair Atobe had sat on, not long ago. It still held the warmth of the man's body, and Yukimura shivered, anticipating the moment he would devour that warmth and life, and replace it with the life and gifts only he could give.

"His disappearance will not go unnoticed. He is not an orphan whose faith no one cares of, like Kirihara. He is a noble, one who is widely known and respected." Sanada came to stand before him, the shards of the broken glass crushing under his boot. "There will be questions."

"Ones we will not be here to answer," Yukimura snapped, his voice laced with irritation. He did not appreciate Sanada trying to damper his enthusiasm. He had been happy; elated in the fantasies of what it would be like when he would finally have Atobe, when he could taste the man, feel his mortal life slip away, and could see the miracle of a life given through blood come to existence.

"And if he does not follow you?" Sanada asked, stunning Yukimura to silence.

"Not possible," Yukimura finally said. "He will be mine, as all my children are."


	12. Chapter 12

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Comments and critique appreciated.

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Atobe's study was located on the second floor of the house, and from the windows he could see the stable yard, and he spent more time watching the grooms tend to the horses than he did sitting beside his desk. He could not keep the smile from his face as he watched the young groom, Kintaro, run around the yard, from one horse to another, from man to man, waving his arms around, mouth in constant movement. The boy was endearing, when you did not need to listen to him.

Atobe leaned on his hand, and winced when the edge of the windowsill pressed against the cut on his palm. The cut was not deep, the wound had already closed and nearly healed after two days. The cloth Yukimura had used to tie the wound lay on top of the night table in his bedroom. It had been there this morning and without thinking, still half asleep, Atobe had taken it and lifted it against his nose and inhaled, hoping it would have held a scent of Yukimura. He had blushed with embarrassment when his mind had caught up with his actions. There was nothing to smell on the cloth after it had been washed, and even if there had been, when had he turned into a swooning maiden who sniffed at handkerchiefs, hoping to get a sniff of his beloved's scent? Yukimura might have appeared feminine, but he was a man, and Atobe was not into perversions.

Still, he could not deny the fascination he felt towards Yukimura and even to some extent towards his servant, Sanada. They were both reserved, and did not seem inclined to share much about themselves, and that was why Atobe wanted to know more of them. It was not that he did not think people deserved to have their secrets – it was that when those secrets became of interest to him, he considered it his right to know them.

Fisting his hands, Atobe stormed out of the study, his mind set. He would go today, to see them again. The handkerchief was as good an excuse as any, even if Yukimura had extended him an open invitation to call at any time. Though Yukimura had mentioned he preferred to receive visitors after nightfall, and it was still early afternoon, Atobe could not wait. He would go now.

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By the time he appeared before the stable it was still bustling with activity, but the atmosphere was different than what he had observed from his window. Kintaro's face no longer held a grin, and he walked with his head hung low. All the men's faces were grim, but what most caught Atobe's attention was Shishido.

The man was hitting his fist against the stable's wall, and no one tried to stop him. One of the grooms stood beside him, worried, but did nothing.

"Shishido!" Atobe shouted, when he was only a step away from the man. "What is wrong?" Atobe asked, frowning.

Shishido finally stopped hitting the wall so he could look at him, and Atobe was struck by the desperation on his face. Shishido's eyes were red, but there were no tears visible, and his mouth was held shut tightly, as if he feared he would scream and could not stop if he opened his mouth.

"It's Choutarou," Shishido finally spoke, keeping his voice as close to a whisper as he could and still be heard.

"What of him?" Atobe asked, frowning.

"He's gone missing," Shishido answered, still whispering. "His sister came and told us that Choutarou hadn't come home for the night, and she wanted to know if he'd spent the night at the house, but no one's seen him, not since last night…"

"Why wasn't I told?" Atobe asked, nearly furious. He might not have been fond of Ohtori, but if one of his people was missing, he should have been told so that he could have done everything possible to find him.

"I haven't told even Hiyoshi yet," Shishido said.

"You idiot," Atobe hissed. "That should have been the first thing you should have done, not try to bring down the stable with your bare hands!"

Shishido seemed torn between getting insulted by the remark and worrying for Ohtori. Finally he settled on glaring angrily at Atobe, who sighed and took hold of Shishido's arm. "You will go to Hiyoshi, now, and tell him what has happened. He will know what to do; this is not the first time someone has gone missing. And we have always found them. Usually wandering around the woods."

"But… Why can't you do it?" Shishido asked, eyeing the large white house with suspicion. No doubt he remembered all the times when they had bullied Hiyoshi when they were children. Hiyoshi had been withdrawn and gloomy even as a child, an easy target for them both to pick on. No one had ever stopped them and only years later Atobe had realized it was not because they were so terribly clever to never get caught, but because no one cared about Hiyoshi enough to face the wrath of Atobe's mother, should someone punish her son because of her husband's bastard.

Hiyoshi still resented them both because of that, and Shishido could not just simply ignore it like Atobe. Hiyoshi's station as the steward placed him in a position of power that, if he so wanted, he could have used to make life difficult for Shishido. And even if it was Hiyoshi who had the right to hold his grudge, Shishido for some reason could not stand Hiyoshi. Atobe had never asked if there was something more to it than childhood stupidities. It was no longer within his rights to ask something so personal from Shishido.

"I was planning to see Yukimura, and after hearing what has happened, I consider it even more important that I see him." Atobe told Shishido, who blinked at him. "He's been tending to their garden hasn't he? They might have seen him."

"I can't believe I forgot about them," Shishido muttered. "It was where he was going when I saw him last night."

"This is why you should have come to me in the first place," Atobe smirked. "As you will remember, it was always my plans that succeeded, and yours that had the most disastrous results."

"I seem to remember a few exceptions," Shishido answered dryly, but he had a small, relieved smile on his face. "I should get your horse," he said, and stepped towards the stables, but Atobe stopped him, with a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure there are others just as capable of saddling her," Atobe said. "You go and speak with Hiyoshi."

Shishido nodded, and stepped past him. Back still turned to Atobe, and his head hanging, Shishido whispered a muttered, "Thanks Atobe," before nearly running towards the house.

"You are welcome, Shishido," Atobe said, smiling, and ignored the groom next to him who had been following their conversation silently the whole time, and now had a baffled expression on his face.

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The house looked the same it had two days earlier. Daylight did not make it seem any less devoid of life, or more welcoming. Only difference was that whatever had spooked his horse the first time did not affect her now. The mare allowed Atobe to lead it right to the gate and did not fight when Atobe tied the reins on the fence and walked up to the door.

As before, Atobe knocked, and as before, no one came to let him in. Atobe frowned and wondered for a moment if Yukimura was resting, and that was the reason he preferred meeting people during the night. It was possible that besides the wounds inflicted on his face he had an illness that made him sensitive to sunlight. Atobe had heard of such an illness, and even if it was rare, that did not mean someone he knew could not have it.

Atobe turned away, but the memory of Shishido's face came to him, and he knew he could not simply leave and tell Shishido he had left when no one had answered his knock. He needed to be able to tell Shishido he had done everything he could. Yukimura would no doubt understand the reason for his intrusion once he explained, and if he did not, well…

Well who was to say Yukimura would ever need to know?

Much of the time he had been forced to spend within this house Atobe had spent learning to know every corridor and room, where to hide from a worried maid that had been ordered to watch him, and how to get in and out of the house without being noticed.

He made his way to the south side of the house, and kept his gaze down, looking for a hatch hidden behind long grass. He soon found it, and grouched low. The small hole, covered by a wooden door was just big enough for a child to crawl in and out through it, and Atobe chuckled, wondering if he could possible fit through it. He was not a large man, but neither was he slender.

He was tempted once again to simply leave, but now it was not only the expectation to see Shishido's grateful look that spurred him on. He was excited in the knowledge that he was doing something childish and ridiculous; sneaking into a stranger's house as if they were dangerous criminals or spies from a foreign nation. And if that was not enough, he was going to ease his way into the cellar through an old hatch that would only fit a child or a small woman easily.

Sighing heavily Atobe took off his coat, gloves and hat, placed them on the ground next to him, and kneeled before the hatch. He closed his hands around the small iron handle and pulled with all his strength, expecting it to be stuck. The hatch tore away in his hand with a loud shriek, the rusted hinges breaking off easily as Atobe fell on his back. The long grass tickling his chin, and a piece of rotten wood resting on his chest, he lied on the ground, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

He scrambled up and stared widely around him, waiting for someone to come and see what had caused the noise. When no one came, he finally let go of the door and it fell on the ground with a small thump.

He took a deep breath, dragged his hand across his hair, his fingers getting stuck on the ribbon at the nape of his neck. Frustrated, he pulled it off, and it fell on the ground, amongst the tall and wild grass. He stared at the strip of black silk wondering if he should tie his hair again so it wouldn't hinder him when he tried to squeeze through the small opening. "And maybe I shouldn't be doing this in the first place," he mumbled softly, and realized he was stalling.

Atobe tried to remember the basement from the time he had last been there. It consisted of three parts; the food cellar, storage room, and a room that had always stood empty; there had never been a use for it, not one that he was aware of.

Once he would manage to get through the opening, Atobe would land on the floor of the large storage room. On his left, he knew, would be the food cellar where the housekeeper in his grandmother's time had stored the vegetables and drinks, and next to that would be the stairs that led upstairs to the kitchen. Straight ahead of him there would be a doorway to the empty room.

Atobe went down on his knees, and contemplated the size of the opening. It was possible he would fit through it, but only barely. At least he would not need to fit through it twice. To get out of the house, he would have to sneak upstairs, go through the kitchen, the dining room, and the hall and hope he wouldn't be noticed. But that option was more appealing than having to ease his way through the opening twice.

Taking in a deep breath, Atobe sat on the ground and placed his feet through the hole, turned on his stomach and crawled backwards till his feet were dangling inside the cellar. For a brief moment he felt panic grip him, afraid someone would grab hold of his feet and pull him inside. He nearly scrambled back up, but closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He had gone this far, he might as well go all the way.

He eased further inside until he could not go any further as his shoulders were too wide to fit through. He swore quietly, and licked his lips, trying not to think of the spectacle he was making of himself. If Shishido could see him now, there would be no end to the laughter and mockery he would receive for the rest of his life.

Something grazed against his leg, and Atobe froze, listening. He heard laboured breathing, thought for a moment it might have been his own, but no, it was too heavy to be his. His leg was grabbed again, more forcefully this time, and Atobe kicked back, trying to hit whatever it was that had taken hold of him, but whatever it was, it was insistent. Atobe tried to climb up, but the pull on his leg continued, and he was dragged down, the timber surrounding his shoulders digging into his skin, and as he struggled to crawl up, it had the opposite effect, and he found himself slipping slowly down to the darkness of the basement, grass and dirt gathered in his closed fists.

He landed on his back on the hard, cold floor, hitting his head and elbow, something still wrapped around his ankle. Not able to see what it was, fearing to open his eyes, Atobe kicked with his free leg, stood up and backed away, still feeling disoriented and hurting from the fall. Opening his eyes finally, Atobe could see the stairs ahead of him, with the help of the sunlight coming from the hole he had made on the wall, and from a small window further away.

"Please." Atobe heard a pained voice whisper, and stood still. "Help me."

He turned slowly to see who had spoken, and gasped as he saw the figure lying on the ground, its face in the light. All the cheeriness that Atobe had so resented had vanished from Ohtori's face, replaced by deep lines of despair. His deathly pale cheeks were covered with trails of tears, and his light eyes were swollen and red. "Lord Atobe," Ohtori whispered between his lips that looked mangled, like someone had chewed on them. There were tiny wounds around his neck, and blood splattered on his torn shirt. Angry red scratch marks all over the exposed skin of his arms and chest, like some crazed animal had attacked him.

"Ohtori," Atobe whispered, and took a hesitant step towards the man whose eyes looked at him so full of hope it pained Atobe to see it. "What... Who has done this to you?" he asked.

"They're demons, Lord Atobe," Ohtori rasped, and tears flowed down his cheeks. "His eyes glowed, when he first showed me his fangs, and pulled back the hood covering his face. I had thought his face to be beautiful, and it was, but there were scars on his face, pale marks of a fire that covered nearly half his face." Ohtori started shaking, and gathered his arms around him, but continued speaking, his voice trembling. "He laughed so gently when he first opened my vein," he lifted his wrist, to show Atobe the blood darkened fabric wrapped around it. "But his laughter soon turned maniacal. He drank my blood, Lord Atobe, lapped at it with his tongue. And when I began to slip into a blessed sleep where I would not have to feel his torture, his touch became gentle again. And when I had recovered, he bit into my neck. All night, he tortured me. He clawed on my skin, and licked at the wounds. He drained my blood into a glass that he offered to his companion and asked for his opinion on it as if it were fine wine."

"Who?" Atobe whispered the question that he knew the answer to.

Ohtori turned his head towards Atobe again, and with his teeth clattering, whispered a name. "Yukimura."

Atobe let out a breath he had not known he was holding. He had an answer now, to why he was so drawn to the man. The devil's creature had been sent here to seduce him, and it had taken a form that would fascinate him, that would keep Atobe intrigued. Why the demon had chosen the form of a young man, instead of a woman, Atobe could not understand, but he knew its purpose now, and he would not surrender his soul to its hands.

"They fear the sunlight, I think. He left me here, chained to the wall from my ankle when the sun rose, promising to return." Ohtori's eyes stared through Atobe, as his mind was flooded with images of what had happened to him. "You must take me away, Lord Atobe, because when he promised to return, I was glad. I felt myself craving for his touch, and even though he horrifies me, I cannot be but stunned by his beauty. Half his face is perfect, skin smooth and pale like marble, his eyes; the colour of the night sky after a storm, and his mouth, the tender touch of his lips before he bites into my flesh, and his tongue, almost caressing above the wounds he makes." Ohtori's face held a look of adoration, and Atobe leaned forward, yearning to hear more.

"You have seen his face," Atobe said, and felt a stab of jealousy that Ohtori had witnessed something that had been denied from him.

"Please Lord Atobe, you must help me to get away from them!" Ohtori pulled on his shirt so Atobe needed to bend over, and their faces were now only inches apart. Atobe struggled to not to let his disgust of Ohtori show on his face. The lines of his skull showed through the almost translucent skin, and the gleam in Ohtori's eyes had turned from near dreamy and adoring to mad, and even though his hands shook, his hold on the shirt was strong, and he nearly managed to strangle Atobe by hanging on so tightly.

"Let… Go of me!" Atobe screamed, and yanked the shirt from Ohtori's grasp. Breathing heavily he staggered back and stared at the pathetic creature in front of him. "I will help you, Ohtori, but I cannot do it alone. You need to stay calm while I get help."

"Yes, I understand," Ohtori stared down, subdued. "Shishido must be worried. I will be glad to see him again." Ohtori smiled, and that smile was so gentle it wiped the worry from his face and made him almost beautiful again.

Atobe nearly snarled at that affectionate face. He could imagine it; Shishido weeping before this pathetic man, happy to see him again. If he had never come here, not seen Ohtori, things would be as they once were. He would have comforted Shishido for the loss of his friend, and they would have had their companionship back. If Ohtori wouldn't be there, he would have his friend back, his life would be perfect. He deserved to have the perfect life.

"Thank you, Lord Atobe," Ohtori spoke, and stared up at him, still with that smile on his face. "Thank you."

"I will leave now, but I will come back and we will help you," Atobe promised, and turned away from Ohtori. His back rigid, he walked towards the stairs, did not turn even once to look behind him, not wanting to show his face to Ohtori, knowing the look on it was ugly.

He reached the top of the stairs, and opened the door to the kitchen. The bright sunlight greeted him, and as the door closed behind him, he shut away the image of Ohtori's mangled, tortured body, and the look of wild hope and gratitude in his eyes, and it was as if he had never seen them.


	13. Chapter 13

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Comments and critique appreciated.

* * *

Atobe looked up from the book he was reading when he heard a knock against the window. He saw a white face in the darkness, and recognized Shishido. He lifted his hand and gestured for the man to come inside and bask in front of the fire as he did. In response to his invitation Shishido gave a brief grin and soon his face disappeared from view.

Atobe did not need to wait for long for the door to open and Shishido to step inside the room. "A storm's coming in," Shishido greeted him with a nod. "There's no way we can keep searching tonight." There was a familiarity in the manner he walked across the room and spoke with Atobe, as there should be, considering the same had happened for nearly a week now, ever since the day they had learned of Ohtori's disappearance.

"So you still haven't found any trace of him?" Atobe closed the book he had been reading, set it on the table next to his chair and stood up. "It might be that he just… left."

"Choutarou wouldn't do that, not without telling me!" Shishido protested loudly, like he had before when Atobe and others had suggested the same.

"It's not like him, I agree, but you have been searching for nearly a week now, and nothing," Atobe kept his voice calm, hoping it would in turn calm Shishido. "And there is a young girl missing from the village, one that, if rumours are true, Ohtori was quite fond of."

"Yeah he liked her, but her dad was against the whole thing," Shishido said.

Atobe sighed. "That only supports the assumption that he ran away with the girl. They could very well be married by now, and you shall soon receive a letter from him, apologetic, but elated of his marital bliss."

"God I hope you're right, Atobe, I really do," Shishido flopped unceremoniously on one of the chairs before the fire and buried his head in his hands. Shishido's hat fell from his head on to the floor, from where Atobe picked it up and placed on the mantle of the fireplace. "But he'd never do anything like that."

Atobe remained silent, his eyes on Shishido's defeated frame. It wasn't necessary for Shishido to be part of the search and there were others much more capable of finding a missing person, but no one had the heart to deny Shishido when he insisted on being part of the search. When one of the grooms had disappeared while taking part of the search, it had only doubled Shishido's efforts. He felt responsible for the missing man, blamed himself that the man had gotten lost.

"You don't really believe it, do you?" Shishido's question came out muffled because his face was still buried in his hands.

"What?" Atobe asked.

"You think he's dead, don't you?" Shishido pulled the hands from before his face and stared Atobe, eyes burning.

Atobe turned his head away to stare out of the window and at the trees that the strengthening wind swayed, hoping that perhaps he wouldn't need to answer.

"Atobe!" Shishido had always had a short temper, and it had become even shorter these days. If Atobe did not answer soon, he might be forced to face Shishido's fists.

"Yes," Atobe answered. "I think he's dead." He turned so he could see Shishido's face when he spoke the words. Perhaps he expected to see Shishido crumble before him, hear him scream in desperation and break into tears. But all Shishido did, was sigh.

"Me too," Shishido said, and his shoulders slumped.

"Then why are you still searching?" Atobe asked.

"Because…" Shishido fisted his hands on his knees and his face twisted into a grimace. "I need to find his body. So that his family can bury him, so I can say goodbye. Don't you see?"

Atobe nodded slowly, even if he did not really understand. What difference did it really make if he saw the body or not, as long as he knew Ohtori was dead? But maybe that was it, and Shishido couldn't make himself believe Ohtori was dead until he saw the body, even if he knew the truth.

The door opened behind them and Kabaji entered, carrying with him a large, white envelope. He bowed before Atobe, and offered him the letter. Atobe took it, and dismissed Kabaji with a wave of his hand.

Curious, Atobe stared at the envelope, wondering who the letter was from, but there was nothing more than his name written on it. He wanted to open it right away, but hesitated, throwing a sideway glance at Shishido who stared at the letter curiously.

"This might be from the family," Atobe said. "It could be urgent, so I hope you don't mind if I open it right away."

"No it's fine. I need to check the stables anyway, before the storm really hits us," Shishido said and stood up.

"You don't need to leave," Atobe said. "I just meant that-" he stopped mid-sentence, not that sure what exactly he had meant, and then feeling stupid for protesting when Shishido wanted to give him some privacy to read the letter.

"I'll see you in the morning," Shishido said as his goodbye, and left Atobe alone with the letter.

Atobe stood in the middle of the room, tempted to walk over to the door, and call Shishido back, to make him stay and talk some more, like they had before. Things had been slowly moving towards the amicable companionship Atobe had hoped to have with Shishido, and he didn't like the thought of spending another evening alone, seeing only the gloomy faces of his servants.

Ohtori's loss had been heavy, not just on Shishido, but to most of the staff. Atobe hadn't realized how liked Ohtori was, before he saw the grief on Hiyoshi's face. His brother had never been fond of anyone, and the fact that Ohtori could penetrate even his cold exterior with his kindness made him wonder why he could never see in Ohtori what everyone else did. Perhaps things would have turned out differently had he only been willing to open his heart to Ohtori.

Sighing heavily Atobe turned his attention back to the letter. He tore it open, not bothering with a penknife, too curious to know who it was from. The handwriting on the letter was the same that had been used to write his name on the envelope, and he didn't recognize it. His eyes sought out the signature at the end of the letter. Written in a curvy, elegant handwriting was a name that shocked him so, that the letter slipped from his fingers to the floor, nearly falling in to the flames of the fire.

He stared at the letter like it was something living and dangerous, walked nearer it, still keeping his distance. Taking a shuttering breath, he went down on one knee to read it, not wanting the parchment to have anymore contact with his skin. He licked his lips, and began to read.

_I miss your presence, in this old and dreary house, in which I have none but my loyal Sanada to converse with, and as you might have observed yourself, he is not a man of many words, preferring action over discussion as his way of communicating with the world that surrounds him. And as much as I adore my loyal Sanada, you left me wanting for more of you. _

_It was unfortunate I was not here for your latest visit, and you were forced to spend time with my guest. I understand he was not as entertaining as you wished, for you did not return to seek more of his company. I will be more than glad to compensate for anything he lacked when we meet again. _

_My desire to see you again is so great, that if you will not come to me, I shall come to you. _

To anyone else, the letter was not riddled with threats. But to Atobe, a direct threat to his life could not have been more menacing.

The demon knew everything. It knew he had seen Ohtori, and had chosen to leave him there. That shouldn't have surprised Atobe. He had made no attempts to fix the hatch he had broken, and he doubted Ohtori had remained silent after realizing Atobe had no intention of returning. But he had hoped that would have been enough for Yukimura; that he had left Ohtori to their hands, had not told anyone what he knew when the girl had disappeared the very next day, or even when one of the grooms went missing.

He should have known better than to try and make a deal with the devil and expect to lose nothing, especially when he did not know what the devil would demand of him.

"Atobe?" Shishido asked from the door, and Atobe threw the letter amongst the burning embers in the fireplace. He stared at them, wondering how long had he been crouched above the letter, for the firewood to turn to embers, from the logs of wood he remembered seeing amongst the fire when Shishido had left.

"What is it?" Atobe asked, standing up.

"I left my hat," Shishido pointed on the mantle where Atobe had placed the hat when Shishido had dropped it on the floor. "Was that letter anything I should be worried about?"

"And why should my matters concern you, Shishido, ahn?" Atobe asked, lifting an eyebrow and putting all his arrogance behind the question. He could not let Shishido find out about the letter's content.

Shishido scowled and strode across the room to retrieve his hat. He took it in his right hand, placed it above his heart and gave Atobe a sweeping bow, and spoke in a voice filled with bitterness, "I apologize for having the audacity to presume I had any right to question My Lord's affairs." Shishido rouse from his bow, never raising his eyes to meet Atobe's.

Shishido's hand was already on the door knob when Atobe finally apologized. "I'm sorry Shishido, the letter… it shook me."

He heard Shishido sigh, and saw the tension leave his back and shoulders. "It's fine Atobe, I understand." He looked back and grinned wearily, with only a fraction of the eagerness his grin had displayed earlier that evening. "Just try to remember you're not alone."

"I will." Atobe nodded and Shishido was already closing the door behind him when Atobe yelled, "Shishido!"

"What now? I'm tired, and I want to go to sleep." Shishido asked, looking as tired as he claimed to be.

"Nothing," Atobe said, and waved a hand. "Nothing that can't wait till tomorrow," he lied, knowing he would not be here tomorrow. If he hurried, he could be on a ship headed towards the continent by morning. Or perhaps he would try his luck in America.

"Somehow I don't believe you," Shishido said, frowning. "But I'm too tired to argue with you right now. Good night." Shishido closed the door, and Atobe counted to ten, before calling for Kabaji.

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"You sent for me?" Hiyoshi asked, stepping inside Atobe's study, and frowning, when he saw no one.

"Yes, I'm leaving for London," Atobe's voice spoke from behind the desk, and after closing the door behind him, Hiyoshi walked to where the voice came from. He lifted his eyebrows when he saw what Atobe was doing. Two boards had been lifted from the floor, and under them was an opening that contained a small fortune in gold and jewels, and Atobe was filling his bag with coins he took from amongst the riches.

"London?" Hiyoshi repeated. "You would not need this much currency in coin if you were going to London. Nor would you leave Kabaji behind."

Atobe paused in his task, and lifted his eyes to stare up at Hiyoshi.

"As far as you know, if anyone asks, I am in London. Do you understand?" Atobe said, lowering his voice threateningly. To his surprise, Hiyoshi laughed delightedly

"You're running away from something." Hiyoshi smirked. "And whatever it is, it's scared you shitless."

Atobe rose so he could stare down at Hiyoshi. The hatch lay open between them, inside it more gold than Hiyoshi must have seen in his entire life. The hidden stash was not the only one of its kind in the house, and Atobe was sure even the existence of this one was a surprise to Hiyoshi, but not even once did the grey eyes dart down to catch a glimpse of the fortune it held. Hiyoshi's eyes remained fixed on Atobe's and in them shone years of contempt and hatred, along with suspicion and glee for Atobe's fear.

"You're not planning on returning anytime soon either," Hiyoshi continued. "Not when you're taking that much gold with you. What could have possible scared you so?"

"I do not have the time to play these games with you," Atobe growled and turned back to the desk to pick up his hat. "You've seen the hiding place now. I've left enough money in there for you to live in luxury for the rest of your life. Consider it a delayed inheritance, if you wish."

"No," Hiyoshi said, and took hold of Atobe's arm. "I want to know what caused this."

Hiyoshi's hold on his arm tightened; became painful, but Atobe refused to let Hiyoshi see the pain be reflected on his face. In his whole life Atobe had not surrendered to anyone, and he would not begin with his brother, when it was clear there was no love between them, when they could hardly stand to be in each other's presence.

"It must have been something that happened today," Hiyoshi speculated aloud, keeping his eyes on Atobe's face. "You were quite content earlier today. Happy, you might say."

Atobe's eye twitched, and Hiyoshi's eyes narrowed. "Too happy for someone who's just lost a gardener and a groom."

"Unhand me," Atobe ordered. "I don't have time!" He couldn't prevent the panic he felt to come out in the loudness of his voice.

"You never liked Ohtori," Hiyoshi's voice became almost breathless, and his face paled as the possibility of what Atobe might have done came to him. "You always blamed him for stealing Shishido from you; you were never brave enough to accept that it was you that threw him aside when he no longer fitted your life. I wouldn't put it past you to have done something to Ohtori."

Atobe could feel the blood drain from his face, and the cold sweat on his skin when Hiyoshi came so close to the truth. He knew it was too late to try and cover it when Hiyoshi released his arm and staggered back, horrified.

"He never did a thing to you," Hiyoshi's voice was quiet and filled with venom, like a hiss of a poisonous snake. "But you never liked him, and then he disappeared. Last seen at the cottage, from where you received a letter tonight." Hiyoshi's hand flew to his mouth, and he bent double, and gagged. It took him a few seconds to recover, but when he did, it was no longer horror and disbelief that shone in his eyes, but hatred, burning more brightly and violently than ever before.

"What did it say?" Hiyoshi's upper lip curled up and he snarled. "They want payment for what they did? Threatened to reveal what you had done? Blackmail would explain all that gold."

"You have no proof of anything," Atobe said, knowing instantly he shouldn't have confirmed Hiyoshi's suspicions with words like that.

"Proof!" Hiyoshi spat the word at Atobe, his eyes glowing feverishly. "I don't need it to ruin you! They'll all know what you did by morning. You can run, but you'll never be able to return." The smile on Hiyoshi's face was hauntingly familiar. Atobe recognized it as one he had seen on his own lips. So arrogant and cruel. If there had ever been any doubts in Atobe's mind that they shared a father, that smile wiped them all away.

"And I can't forget about the other disappearances," Hiyoshi laughed madly, and his laughter chimed in Atobe's ears like silver bells caught in the wind; sharp, and so filled with pure joy that it sounded almost innocent, and it would have been, for it not for the malice distorting it. "I'll destroy you!"

"You will gain nothing from it!" Atobe yelled, trying to reach that one part in Hiyoshi he knew longed for station and wealth. "Your silence will be worth much to me. I'll give you anything you want, the house, all the gold!" He was grasping at straws, would have promised anything, even his soul now, if Hiyoshi would only be quiet!

"All I need is to see you in ruins," the words came out of Hiyoshi in a voice that did not sound anything like his own. It was too low and dangerous, filled with nothing but fury so deep that it did not sound even human.

"This is not like you, Hiyoshi, be rational," Atobe attempted to calm him.

"How would you know what is like me, and what is not?" Hiyoshi said. "I sometimes wondered if you ever even noticed me. Everyone noticed you, and that trash, Shishido. I didn't exist to you or to anyone. Not until you saw a way to profit off me. You must have thought it a fun joke. Make your brother the steward and he'll always be reminded that he's below you; that were it not for a quirk of fate, our roles would have been reversed, and I would be Earl!" Hiyoshi screamed, pointing a finger at himself.

"Do not think too highly of yourself!" Atobe screamed back. "You could have never, never been what I am! Compared to me you are like a mouse to a leopard!"

"And even that was not enough for you!" Hiyoshi continued shouting like he had not heard Atobe. "You had to take away the one person to ever be kind to me, who I could speak with, who acknowledged me! And only because you were jealous of Shishido! Jealous of a stable boy's attention!"

"Be quiet!" Atobe yelled, grasping at the end of the table, his hand reaching out for something to hold on to.

"And I'll take that from you too! He'll hate you for what you've done, he'll never forgive you for Ohtori!"

Atobe's fingers closed around something heavy and solid, his vision turned hazy, his head was spinning, and he could hear nothing but loud screaming in his ears. He just wanted Hiyoshi to shut up, to not speak those foul words.

"He'll despise you, they all will!"

Atobe swung his right arm, still grasping onto what it was in his hand. Hiyoshi's head snapped back and something warm landed on Atobe's face. Hiyoshi fell, and it was finally silent. The screaming in Atobe's ears disappeared, and the world returned.

Atobe fell to his knees, his gaze shifting to his right hand that was holding a bronze statue of a horse. It had been a gift to his father from his mother. A birthday gift Atobe's father had never really liked, but kept in his study just the same, because he found no other place for it, and it brought a smile to Atobe's mother's lips every time she saw it on the desk. Atobe had kept it on the desk. It had been a rare reminder of the odd fondness his parents shared. Something that made him smile wistfully, wondering if things were not different than what he had thought, that perhaps his parents had been happy after all, if he could find happiness with a woman one day.

It was stained with his brother's blood now, the statue that had stood for the bond between his parents.

"Hiyoshi," Atobe called the name softly, crawled forward, both his knees on either side of Hiyoshi, his left hand above Hiyoshi's right shoulder, next to the head, palm flat against the floor, his right hand, still holding the statue, next to the gaping wound on Hiyoshi's head. The blood had dyed Hiyoshi's sand coloured hair red, and more blood flowed from the wound, the pool of it spreading, reaching the carpet, and soaking it.

Hiyoshi's eyes fluttered open, and when he saw Atobe's face hover above him, he growled, and tried to get up, but only managed to fidget his feet, and to move his head a fraction to the side.

"You'll tell, won't you?" Atobe asked, his voice shaking as he struggled to breathe. He lifted the statue over his head, arms trembling. Hiyoshi's eyes widened and he tried to open his mouth, but Atobe never gave him a chance to speak. "I can't let you do that," he whispered, and brought the statue down, and it smashed on Hiyoshi's jaw, splintering the bones, but it didn't hit the wide eyes, or silence the whimpering. Atobe hit again, and again, and again, wanting those eyes to close, for Hiyoshi to be silent.

He finally let go of the statue, and it fell on Hiyoshi's chest. The face had turned into a bloody mess of mangled flesh and straps of skin. White bone shone brightly in the midst of all that red, and a piece of a bone that had once been a part of the jaw hang to the side, teeth still attached. There were no eyes to glare at him anymore, no mouth to sneer at him, nothing that resembled a person's face in that bloody mess of flesh.

He gagged and doubled over, nearly falling on top of the body. To steady himself Atobe placed his palm on the floor, but the wood had turned slippery from the blood, and he fell, his head now buried in Hiyoshi's shoulder, his fingers tangling in the sticky hair.

Shaking, Atobe pushed the body away from him, and tried to stand up. He managed to get up to his knees, only to fall back down amongst the blood that stuck to his clothes, seeped through the fabric onto his skin.

He crawled away towards the desk, and finally reached the chair before it, in which Hiyoshi had sat so many times, pointing out figures, glaring at him and suppressing his laughter when Atobe said or did something he found amusing.

He sat on that chair now, and his eyes fell on the body spread out on the floor, unmoving. From the neck down, he looked the same as ever. The hair remained untouched, only slightly coloured red. But the face… He could not look at it without the bile rising up to his mouth.

The door opened, and Atobe ripped his eyes from the mess, and locked eyes with Kabaji. Kabaji was not looking at him, he was staring at the body. There wasn't a change on his face or eyes, nothing in the way he stood that told Atobe what Kabaji was thinking.

"Ah, Kabaji," Atobe said. "I have killed my brother." Atobe giggled, and smacked his hand over his mouth the moment he heard the sound. He felt cold, and squirmed in his seat like the skin he was wearing was something disgusting that needed to be shed.

"He wouldn't shut up, Kabaji, wouldn't be quiet when I told him to," Atobe continued when the shivers quieted down. "He would have told everyone what I had done, would have told them about Ohtori." He couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, he needed to speak them. "They're demons, do you understand, demons, and I left Ohtori to them, like a sacrifice, thinking they would accept him for exchange for me. I should have known they would not settle for anything less but me. They took him, and they took more, and now they want me." He felt like laughing again, but gritted his teeth together and dug his nails to his knees, hoping the pain would erase his mad desire to laugh.

Atobe looked back at Kabaji, only to see him gone. He blinked, and knew he should stand and leave before Kabaji returned. But his eyes wandered back to the body and to the blood on his hands, and he stayed and waited.

Kabaji finally returned, but he was alone. Atobe watched Kabaji as the man walked towards the desk, and kneeled, his form hidden from view by the large furniture. He listened, and soon heard the sound of boards that normally hid the hole, being placed back over it. When Kabaji rose from behind the desk, the bags Atobe had filled with gold were thrown over the large man's shoulder.

Not looking at Atobe Kabaji walked to Hiyoshi's body, stood over it, glanced at the blood soaked rug in the middle of the room, and then returned to stare at the body. He kneeled, picked up the body, rouse with a grunt, walked to stand over the rug, and dropped the body in the middle of it.

Atobe flinched when the body landed on the rug, and wanted to shout at Kabaji to be gentler with his brother, and at that thought he wanted to weep, but instead he chuckled again. It sounded better this time, more dry, and not mad.

Kabaji had managed to roll the body into the rug, and now picked it up in his arms, and carried the bundle from the room, leaving Atobe alone, to stare at the blood stains on the floor that travelled from the large pool to the chair he sat in.

Kabaji returned, with a bucket of water and a rag. He kneeled before the blood stains, and started scrubbing the floor. They both remained silent. Atobe no longer had anything to say, and Kabaji hardly ever spoke.

Atobe had found Kabaji working in the kitchen in their London house. For some reason Kabaji had decided to follow Atobe around when the boy ventured into town, and since Kabaji always did what he was told, and never argued or questioned his orders, Atobe decided he would make a good valet. After some time he became so used to Kabaji he did not know how he would ever manage to function should he have to live without him. Kabaji was like an extension of him, another pair of arms and legs.

When he was done scrubbing, and there wasn't any blood on the floor anymore, Kabaji picked up the bronze statue of a horse, and after inspecting it carefully, began cleaning it. Once done, he placed the statue back on the desk, and turned to face Atobe, his face as unreadable as ever.

Atobe smiled grimly and spread his arms wide. "Come, Kabaji," he called for the man.

"Usu," Kabaji nodded, and he only needed to take two steps to stand before Atobe, and to kneel before him, head bowed.

Sighing heavily Atobe lifted a hand and let his fingers brush through Kabaji's dark hair. He felt a sudden wave of affection for Kabaji flood him, and fisted the hand buried in Kabaji's thick hair. "I wish I had someone to blame for this," Atobe spoke, and let his fingers slide through the thick hair once more. It would have been fine with him, if he could have stayed here, like this for a little longer. But soon Kabaji would stand and the moment of peace would be gone.

He had never thought Kabaji would betray him; the man's loyalty had always seemed boundless. But he had never tested it in a trial such as this. He could understand Kabaji's motivation for securing the money, but not his actions with Hiyoshi's body. Why hide it, if he intended to reveal Atobe's crime? Or perhaps Kabaji would kill him, thus ensuring there was no one left to tell of the money. He felt more surprised than betrayed; he had not thought Kabaji capable of making plans so intricate, he had never thought much of Kabaji. Always there, always doing his bidding, never questioning, and always obedient.

Atobe thought he could accept death if it came from Kabaji's hands. It would be nothing he did not deserve, and much more merciful than to force him to suffer through a humiliating trial that would undeniably shame his whole family.

He felt the damp rag touch his hand, and untangled his fingers from Kabaji's hair. "Kabaji, what…" he began, and watched as Kabaji gently wiped the blood from his hand. He tried to pull his hand away, but Kabaji closed his fingers around his wrist, and grunted. "Kabaji," Atobe said, and waited until Kabaji lifted his gaze to meet his. "You saw what I did," he said.

"Usu." Kabaji answered, and turned his attention back to Atobe's hand.

"You heard what I told you," Atobe tried again, thinking that perhaps Kabaji had not understood.

"Usu." This time Kabaji did not lift his face, and only paused in his task to dip the rag into the bucket of water and to twist away the excess water. Once done with the hand, Kabaji lifted the rag to Atobe's face, and with an even gentler touch moved the damp rag along Atobe's features. The cloth moved over his eyes, and Atobe had to close his eyelids. He didn't bother opening his eyes again, and when the cloth pressed against his lips, he sighed contently and relaxed. The slightly cold, damp cloth continued to travel on his skin gently, moved from his face to his neck.

Finally Kabaji seemed content, and Atobe heard him stand up. When something was placed on his lap, Atobe opened his eyes and saw Kabaji's brown irises with a warm glow in them. He was ashamed now for his earlier thoughts of Kabaji. He had never seen a gentler gaze, never been on the receiving end of such silent and unshakeable loyalty.

Looking down on his lap Atobe saw his hat and gloves. It was obvious what Kabaji wanted him to do.

When Atobe still only sat in the chair, Kabaji grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him up. The hat and gloves fell on the floor, and Kabaji bent to pick them up. He placed the hat on Atobe's head, and held the gloves in his hand until Atobe took them.

Kabaji walked out of the study, through the dark and empty corridors, and Atobe followed him silently, keeping his head bowed. Walking down the stairs, Atobe kept his hand pressed against the railing, and when he stepped on the bottom step, stopped, and called out to Kabaji who was already standing by the front doors, "Wait, I have to-" Atobe looked behind him, at the stairs they had descended, at the door on his right that led to the room he had just a few hours ago sat before a fire, at the marble floor of the hall, illuminated by the sudden flash of lightning, and at the paintings hanging from the walls, and realized he would never see them again.

Even if Hiyoshi's murder and Ohtori's fate would remain secret, he could never return. Yukimura had stated clearly how much he wanted Atobe, and if Atobe wished to stay alive, he could never return when there were no quarantines that Yukimura would not hear of his return, and he could not use the name of Atobe ever again. The next person that would be called the earl of Atobe would be his cousin. It would take a few years before his family would be able to proclaim him dead, but it would happen eventually.

It should have been more painful to take those few steps towards the front door and step outside where the storm wind had picked up enough strength to snatch the hat from his head.

Kabaji made a move to chase after the hat, but Atobe stopped him by yelling, "No, there's no time!" The wind took his words and carried them to the opposite direction of where Kabaji stood, but the large man stilled and nodded.

Atobe pulled on his gloves, gathered the cloak tightly around him, and walked through the yard to the stables, the harsh wind trying to untie his hair, biting his skin with its coldness even through his clothes.

He pulled open the stable yards, blinking confusedly when yellow light greeted him. For a second he panicked when he saw his mare waiting for him, already saddled, but then he saw the familiar bags on her, and calmed, realising Kabaji had readied her. He strode to the mare, and patted her. She seemed quiet, despite the late hour, and even when the other horses moved restlessly as the wind rattled the stable walls, she remained calm.

A shadow covered him, stepping before the light, and Atobe looked behind him at Kabaji. There was nothing he could have said to Kabaji that would've been enough to show the depth of his gratitude. So he settled on smiling. The smile Kabaji gave him in return was floppy, and hesitant. Atobe thought this might have been the first time he had ever seen it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Beta: **EternalAngel

**A/N: **This chapter brings a conclusion to Atobe's tale, but it is not the last of the history chapters. Though the next chapter will return the story to the present, there will be other glimpses of the past in future chapters.  
I hope you've enjoyed the tale of Atobe's turning and as always, comments and critique appreciated.

* * *

The storm continued to gain strength as the distance between Atobe and his home grew. It was no longer satisfied with making the tree branches swing slowly, but tried to uproot everything that had laid its roots in the soil, to make them dance in the air, amongst the lightning and rain. Atobe had lost his hat to the storm, and now it eagerly tugged on his cloak, the only shelter he had left against the harsh wind and icy water.

A bolt of lightning struck the road, and Atobe's mare rouse to its hind legs. Atobe leaned against her neck, and tried to stay in the saddle, but his feet were thrown from the stirrups and he was thrown on the ground, his right hand still tangled on the reins. He landed on the soles of his feet, knees bent, back straight and his eyes gazing at the sky that had been thrown into a chaos of flashing lights and dark clouds that never stilled.

The reins still wrapped around his hand tightened as the mare threw her head back and rouse to her hind legs once again, and then set off, galloping back towards the familiarity of the manor's stable. Atobe was dragged with her, the leather straps digging into his hand, the rocks scraping against his skin. Screaming in agony, he tried to stand and pull on the reins to slow the horse, but she was too wild to obey him or hear anything besides the storm. Finally the reins slid from around Atobe's hand, pulling off his glove, and Atobe was left behind to lie on the road as the mare continued towards safety.

Heaving, Atobe stayed on the ground, cataloguing the different aches of his body. His face and neck tingled, his right hand was numb, his back and thighs ached and there was a sharp flash of headache when he tried to get up and the arm he had been leaning on gave out under him. He groaned, and rolled on his back. The rain started again, and he blinked when the water splashed on his eyes, making his vision blurry. The road beneath his palms turned muddy and the water soaking his clothes made him shiver. He would get sick, if he continued to lie here.

Atobe forced himself to get up despite the pain that made him want to scream and give up. But the thought of what might be after him, the memory of Ohtori's tortured body and crazed stare made him push past the pain and stand up. His eyes sought desperately for any sign of his mare, but she was long gone now and with her, the gold. He would either have to return to get more, or survive with what he had. If he reached London there would be more money in the town house and if he needed any more, he could contact his solicitor. The situation was not hopeless. But he would need to get to London. And that would be near impossible without a horse.

There was a glow of yellow light at the edge of his vision and Atobe turned towards it, hope springing alive in him. His cloak had flown open and the cold wind against his wet clothes numbed his muscles, making it hard for him to even remain on his feet, let alone walk, but fear and pride kept him moving. Too much had been sacrificed for him to die on a country road like a stray dog.

As the yellow light grew brighter, Atobe finally realized it came from the church. The priest always kept the candles lit, even during the night, and the doors were never locked. Anyone who so wished could seek shelter in the Lord's house.

He followed the path that led from the road to the church, and blinked when a lighting strike outlined the church with blue light, and shivered, this time from dread, not from the cold. With its high bell tower and narrow, high windows the building was ominous and threatening. Atobe was reminded of his own sins and he wondered if God had turned his back on him, if he was beyond redemption and forgiveness. He had been taught that God would forgive any sin as long as you repented. But did he repent?

He had forsaken Ohtori for petty jealousy, deceived the one man he called a friend and murdered his brother. The only thing he could make himself regret was that he had not done a better job at protecting himself from the consequences.

Would God strike him down for daring to enter His house, when he did not repent?

Atobe reached the door of the church, reached out with his hand and pressed his palm against the wood. He pushed the door open and stood in the rain, staring at the golden candle light, beckoning him to step into its embrace. He raised his eyes to the large altar at the end of the corridor, at the cross behind it, and his heart thumping in his ears stepped inside, waited for the wrath of God.

Thunder boomed outside, the door closed behind him and Atobe still breathed. He was alive. God had forgiven him.

Strength left his limps and he collapsed on the floor, relieved and tired. He closed his eyes, grateful that the wind and the coldness remained outside and he could rest.

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Gentle hands caressing his face, treading through his hair, tracing the curves of his mouth and cheeks. Touches so soft and weightless that they made Atobe think of the feathers on an angel's wings. He knew it was an illusion created by his desperation, the feeling that he floated in the blessed light of God's forgiveness, but did not care. The deception of his mind was far too alluring for him to want to wake and chase it away.

But the cold of his damp clothes and the ache of his body soon pushed away the pleasant sensations and reluctantly he opened his eyes. What he saw made him think he was still dreaming. His head lay in the lap of a creature Atobe could not think of as human. The gentle smile on its lips held in it immeasurable gentleness and affection, and light shone from behind it, giving the figure the halo of a saint.

"Who are you?" Atobe asked, his voice trembling.

The smile grew even fonder, and it was the only answer Atobe received.

"A new priest?" he suggested the only thing that made sense, and pushed away the hand resting on his forehead. He sat up and turned towards the altar, to the cross behind it and at the two candles on it, and frowned. He did not think the candles on the altar had been lit when he had arrived.

A hand was pressed on his shoulder and Atobe turned again to the person it belonged to. The smile had not vanished, and though still gentle, there was a sharp edge to it. Or perhaps it was in the eyes that the change had occurred.

"I need a horse," Atobe said. "I have no money now, but I promise to send some when I arrive to London. If you are new you might not know me, but I am-"

"You will not need a horse to reach London." That soft, alluring voice, the way it rouse and lowered, echoed from one wall to the other, sang through his body, filled him with a need to hear more, to hear the voice laugh. He knew that voice. "You will not go to London tonight." The hand rouse towards his cheek, and Atobe flinched, stood up and backed towards the altar, hoping the cross there, the sanctity of the altar would protect him.

"I told you I would come to you, did I not Keigo?" His name spoken from that mouth made it lovelier than any endearment a woman had ever given him and the desire he saw reflected in Yukimura's eyes made the desire of so many others diminish in comparison.

"Come to me, and you will feel pleasure no man could ever have, gain strength you could not have even dreamt of, and I will show you beauty beyond what any mortal could see. Let me show you the world through my eyes." Temptation laid in those words, and he yearned to feel and see what Yukimura promised, to see the world through the eyes of this wondrous creature.

"For those, you would want what in return?" Atobe asked, slowly moving closer to the altar behind his back, hoping it would keep him safe. An empty hope, Atobe understood. A church had not kept the demon away, why would an altar make a difference? But he could not give up when there was still even a small possibility. "I am not fool enough to think you would offer them freely, neither am I foolish enough to surrender my soul to you or to your master!"

Yukimura laughed for the first time, and it was not the gentle chuckle Atobe had heard before, but a reckless, mad laughter that echoed from one wall to the other, and when the sound of the thunder joined in with the laughter, rather than being buried under the noise, it gained momentum, grew louder and more powerful, sang together with the wind and thunder. "Have you not realized, yet," Yukimura smiled at him, "that I call no one master."

"That's impossible," Atobe stammered unable to believe what it was Yukimura wanted him to believe. As great opinion as Atobe had of himself, he did not believe the devil himself had come for his soul. "Unless… If you are not a demon, what are you?"

"We," Yukimura paused, and Sanada appeared by his side. "Are creatures that pre-date the birth of Christianity. I, pre-date the birth of Christianity. Your God has no rule over me or my soul." Yukimura raised his gaze up to the cross that hang on the wall over Atobe's head, and brought his hand over his chest. "But His followers have wounded me greatly. Only a few weeks ago my body still carried the marks of the fire they lit in hopes of destroying me and were it not for Sanada, they would have succeeded. But now it is their bodies that have turned to ashes, and the blood of His servants has healed me."

"Blood," Atobe whispered, and remembered what Ohtori had told him. It had not seemed important at the time, just another method of torture and cruelty to drive the boy insane. "I do not know what kind of a monster you are, but no creature with a soul could do what you have done. Whatever it is you promise, I will not surrender my eternal soul or turn my back to God and His mercy!"

Yukimura growled at his words, and clenched his hands to fists. "Did I not tell you already that your God has no role in my faith, and soon He will have none in yours?" It only took two steps from Yukimura for him to be able to breathe the final words against Atobe's cheek. "Your fate will be what ever I choose to make of it."

Atobe hadn't realized he had backed away, until he tripped on the stairs leading to the altar. On his back, his eyes staring up at Yukimura who approached him steadily, Atobe crawled backwards till he could go no further, as the altar was pressing against his back. With the last of his hope now gone, Atobe prayed with more humility in his prayers than he had thought possible. He promised God everything, would he only be saved. He would return home, confess his sins, give up his fortune in favour of those less fortunate, he would willingly hang for slaying his brother, would turn to a beggar, give up his title, his pride, if only God would save him.

Even when Yukimura kneeled before him, and raised a cold hand to his face, Atobe still prayed for a miracle, waited for a bolt of lightning to strike Yukimura, awaited salvation.

"Hush," Yukimura caressed his cheek, trailed fingers along his jaw, briefly let them glide over his lips. "You will soon have seen the last of your mortal troubles, and will not yearn for God any longer. The blood will be your life and pleasure, the night your day, and the moon your sun." How he wanted that voice to never cease speaking, for that hand to never leave his skin, and how he loathed himself for not fighting Yukimura, for not wanting to.

"Why couldn't you just leave?" Atobe loathed himself all the more for the pleading in his voice that sounded desperate even to him.

"But how could I have left you?" Yukimura asked, surprised Atobe would even ask. "To let all that wonderful arrogance and beauty die with your mortal body? How could anyone do such a thing, if they had the power to prevent it?"

"But the price," Atobe whispered, still hoping he would be able to convince Yukimura to let him go. "There must be a price, there always is, and I am not willing to pay."

"What price would you not pay for immortality? Anyone would offer their soul to receive what I am giving you, and I have no interest in your soul."

"Then search for someone who wishes for it! I do not want it!" Atobe yelled.

"You would rather remain human, and be hanged, your name dragged through mud, and your honour, your family disgraced?" Yukimura shook his head. "You do not understand yet, but you will. And you would not wish to be human again when you have the body and the power of a god."

Atobe shifted to his side, in an attempt to gain distance between them, and considered Yukimura's words. There seemed to be no drawbacks in what Yukimura was offering him. Eternity and power, the promise of pleasure and beauty unlike he had ever seen. "Immortal?" Atobe asked, and Yukimura's smile widened. "I would never die? In a hundred years I would still live?"

"And not age," Yukimura added. "Time will not touch your body; it will regain its beauty through the centuries. You will be as beautiful in a hundred years as you are now. Any wound can be healed with blood and only the sun's light can bring you death."

Atobe was sure there was something wrong with what Yukimura offered. There had to be, but he found the allure too powerful. It was too tempting to simply agree.

"It is not like you have a choice," Yukimura spoke with his lips pressed against Atobe's ear, and his palm resting on Atobe's chest. "I am not telling this so you can decide. I am telling you, because I want you to know this before the change, before you die and be reborn as mine. I have discovered that some find it… rattling, to suddenly posses senses far sharper and sensitive than those of a mere human, and can be overwhelmed by the hunger."

"The hunger?"

"The lust and desire for blood, the hunger to sink my fangs in your tender flesh and have your blood flow past my lips, down my throat, for its warmth to spread through me, to have your life fill me." Yukimura's voice was low and filled with need that left Atobe breathless with its intensity. "To feel your body quiver against mine in hopeless, endless pleasure, to hear you draw that final, shuttering breath, to feel the warmth of it against my skin, to have your hands around me, to feel you finally surrender." The need in Yukimura's voice only grew with every word, and so did the terror Atobe felt.

His mind was frantically searching for an answer, something that would give him a way out, but there was nothing in what Yukimura had said that gave him hope. It was clear the monster didn't care what Atobe himself wanted; all it cared for was its own lust.

Sharp pain slashed across his chest, and Atobe screamed and looked down. Yukimura had torn his shirt open, and drawn a wound across his chest, and now stared at the red blood eyes gleaming, holding in his hand a knife that was stained with Atobe's blood. Atobe winced again when Yukimura's fingers dug into his shoulders, and the creature pressed Atobe's back against the stone altar, licking his lips. He shuttered in disgust when Yukimura's tongue darted out and slid along the long wound.

Yukimura lifted his head to lick his lips, and then as more blood surged from the wound, he licked it away again, and Atobe thought of a cat he had once seen licking away cream spilled on a stone floor. The way the animal's pink little tongue had pressed against the stone, its eyes nearly closed, purring loudly, licking even when Atobe was sure there could not be even a memory of the cream's taste left.

Yukimura made noises, moved his lips on Atobe's skin, dug sharp nails into his shoulders, almost mewled, and as disgusted as Atobe was he was horribly fascinated by how someone could desire his blood so deeply. He knew the taste of his own blood and to him it was nothing special, nothing that would merit that enraptured look on Yukimura's face, or the way he purred and moved his body against Atobe's.

There was friction when Yukimura moved, and every time Yukimura moved his leg, Atobe had to bite on his lip to not make a sound, to not let Yukimura know how good it felt, to not encourage the monster. But the gathering heat finally forced Atobe to close his eyes, and when the tongue moved against his now heated skin, and the thigh pressed against his crotch, and the fingers, instead of digging into his shoulders, caressed his skin, and moved down along his back and sides, Atobe could not hold back the groan that escaped from between his lips.

When a cold tongue and lips were pressed against his neck, he felt the strength of Yukimura's hands falter and opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, covered by shadows, the light of the candles not reaching it. His hands lay on his sides and his fingers moved, searching. The touch of cold steel on his fingertips, as pain erupted through him when Yukimura bit down, and with the sound of Yukimura's pleasure filled moans in his ears he closed his fingers around the blade that cut into his palm, and winced, the new pain distracting him from the old and driving away the weakness that had made him surrender to Yukimura's caresses.

His blood made the metal slippery, and it was hard to get his hand around the handle of the knife, but he finally succeeded, and gasping for breath while Yukimura bit harder and deeper, he lifted the blade and stabbed the monster to its side. Yukimura screamed in anguish and lifted his mouth from Atobe's neck and fell back. Pain radiating from his neck and chest Atobe crawled away, grasped at the canvas covering the altar, pulling it down on him, and heard something fall and clatter against the floor with a metallic cling.

Turning around Atobe got on his knees, grabbed hold of the altar and pulled himself on top of it, his chest and right cheek resting on it, his feet still dragging on the ground. The pain forced him to close his eyes. A laugh he heard made him open them.

Yukimura was standing beside the altar, head thrown back, laughing manically, hands holding the hilt of the blade sticking out from his side. It was coloured red with blood that could have been from either of them, Atobe or Yukimura, or from both.

"I had wanted to make this pleasurable for you, but if you insist on fighting me at every turn, you leave me no choice," Yukimura said when his laughter had died out, and eyes locked on to Atobe's, he pulled out the knife, with no sign of the pain he must feel, and brought the blade between their locked gazes. Still keeping his eyes on Atobe who was desperately gasping for air, Yukimura lowered the blade before his smiling mouth and with a pleasure filled hum that rouse from his throat, touched his tongue against the blade.

Atobe shivered before the gaze, and stood up, leaning on the altar for support. He brought his hand up to his neck and winced when his fingers touched the wound there. "Pleasure, from this?" he hissed from between his teeth. "How could you expect me to feel anything but disgust?"

Yukimura's eyes narrowed and his fingers clenched around the hilt of the knife. "You make me so angry," Yukimura spoke softly, as if he was facing a disobedient child. "For that, I am tempted to let you die in the pleasure you claim to not have felt. Do not forget, I felt your body grow warm beneath me, heard you groan."

Atobe laughed, desperately clinging on to his arrogance because he had nothing else left. "Then kill me," he taunted the monster. "I am of no use to you. Why would you want someone who has no respect for you? Kill me!" he screamed.

"No!" Yukimura yelled and growled, flashing his fangs, coloured red from Atobe's blood. "You will have the blood, and when you do, you will understand and see the truth for yourself." Yukimura jumped on top of the altar, reached out and grabbed Atobe's hair in his fist and pulled their faces together. Atobe growled and tried to pry Yukimura's fingers off, but sharp pain in his chest stopped him, and he coughed up blood, could no longer breathe as his lungs were filled with something other than air; cold steel and blood. With eyes that started to loose their light he stared at Yukimura and managed to smile. He had won. He would die, and would never be the monster Yukimura wanted to make of him.

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Carefully Yukimura placed Atobe on the altar, arranged the arms over the chest, the feet lie next to each other, and brushed the hair from the face and caressed the cheek that was slowly turning cold and pale, life fleeting from the body.

Atobe's chest still rouse, and his heart still had a beat, but it became weaker with every passing moment.

"How much longer?" Sanada asked when he came to stand beside Yukimura, eyes on the young man that would soon die.

"Not long," Yukimura smiled and placed a hand over Atobe's heart. "He fought to the very last moment. And did you see his smile, Genichirou, when he thought he had provoked me to kill him?"

"Yes," Sanada answered, hoping Yukimura had seen what he had in that smile. The unbending will that would never bow to Yukimura, a soul that would never love him.

Yukimura's hand moved lovingly along Atobe's chest, tracing the cut he had made, curled around the knife sill lodged in the chest, pulled it out and threw it away. It landed on the floor with a clatter that echoed through the church, followed by the sound of thunder.

"None of you ever fought my will like he did, never questioned me." Not taking his eyes from the already pale face of the young man, Yukimura lifted his wrist to his mouth and with his teeth tore open the vein, and the thick blood spilled from the wound, its scent travelling to Sanada, making him hunger for its sweet taste and the euphoria he knew it would give to the one Yukimura chose to share it with. "It will be all the more wonderful when he will finally break and bend to my will."

"Yukimura, I…" Sanada stopped, knowing his warning words would not be heard and they would only anger Yukimura and make him more determined. "Do you wish to have my blood? He did wound you."

"Only a slight scrape that has nearly healed already," Yukimura answered, not taking his eyes off Atobe. He placed two fingers on the neck, searching for a heartbeat. "It is time. Make sure we are not disturbed."

Thunder struck outside, and Sanada knew none would bother them. No one but someone like Atobe running from something would venture out on a night like this. Yet he still bowed his head and moved across the church to stand by the doors. He could follow the events from there just as well as he could if he stood over them both.

He watched as Yukimura brought his opened wrist against his own lips, drank his own blood, and then leaned down to Atobe's head, pressed their mouths together and pried open the unresisting lips with his tongue. Blood spilled down the white chin and neck, pooled on the wooden surface of the altar, and Yukimura gave a sound of displeasure. He leaned down, licked the lope of the ear and commanded, "Drink," his fingers gently stroking the throat. Yukimura took more of his blood into his mouth and kissed the lips again, and when Atobe swallowed, Sanada saw it, saw the lips move under Yukimura's lips.

Yukimura sat up, smiling delightedly and pressed his still bleeding wrist against Atobe's mouth and smeared the lips with blood, and waited for a tongue to lick them clean. When it did, Yukimura lifted his wrist, but a hand took hold of it and Atobe's eyes opened, and stormy blue fire flashed in them. Snarling, blood smeared fangs showing Atobe pulled the wrist back against his mouth and bit down while Yukimura arched his back and gasped and moaned and hissed as the hunger of the new vampire overwhelmed him.

Atobe arose and Yukimura fell to his back, tangling his fingers in the long hair that fell before Atobe's face as he released the wrist and attacked Yukimura's neck with an angry growl, his arms and legs, whole body imprisoning Yukimura beneath him.

Sanada took a step towards them, but stopped, remembering his master's words. Yukimura would not be pleased if he interfered.

But it went on for too long, and Yukimura's embrace only grew tighter until it turned to an embrace Sanada recognized, knew to be the kind their victims gave before drawing their last breath and giving their lives to those that so hungered for them.

With speed that would have made mortals wonder if he had moved at all, Sanada rushed to the altar, took hold of the back of Atobe's neck and pulled him off Yukimura. "Enough!" he yelled and turned the man to face him.

Face to face with him, Sanada stilled and the angry words he had meant to shout at Atobe disappeared from his mind. He had never wondered what frozen flames looked like, but he knew now as he gazed into Atobe's eyes. Like smoke and fire, but with the paleness of winter, of ice and snow and the grey sky from which they fell.

"Sanada," Atobe spoke his name, and Sanada's gaze was drawn to his lips, followed the red tongue that slid over the white teeth and touched the sharp fangs tentatively. "You smell of earth, of grass and dirt. Of iron and wood. Let me kiss you." It was a command, not a request, and Sanada did not bother to nod his acceptance, knowing there was no need. He watched, mesmerized, as those red lips spread to a thin smile. Gentle fingers rouse to his shoulders, a hand curled around his neck and pulled his head down, and soon warm lips were pressed against his neck, and with no warning teeth pierced his skin and a warm breath ghosted against his skin, and his blood surged to the eager and hungry mouth.

Pleasure of being wanted, hungered, filled Sanada and he groaned aloud, letting his eyelids fall down so the evading light of the candles could not disturb him, so he could concentrate only on the warmth of Atobe's body, on the teeth that scraped against his skin, tearing at it, on the tongue that swiped against his cold and hardened skin, on the feel of the still tender flesh under his hands that had retained the softness of mortality.

Atobe's hunger filled him, the pleasure Atobe gained from his blood filled his mind, filled him with lust, hunger and pleasure, and he yearned for the warmth he felt pulsing under the skin beneath his hands, wanted to tear into that flesh, to have it fill him the way he felt his blood and strength fill the body of the being that he embraced.

"Sanada!" Yukimura's voice yelled from somewhere far, but Sanada ignored the urgency in it, and pulled Atobe tighter against him, pressed the head harder against his neck and together they fell to their knees, limbs entwined, minds mingled with shared pleasure that Sanada gained form giving, Atobe from taking.

"Sanada!" The voice held a tinge of panic now, and Sanada forced his eyes to open. Yukimura's face was mere inches away from his, his eyes wide open and in them Sanada saw worry, fear and… jealousy.

Grunting, his eyes fixed on Yukimura's, Sanada placed his palm flat against the back of Atobe's neck and sent a silent plead for Atobe to stop. Almost instantly Atobe pulled away his fangs, but Sanada felt a devious smirk against his neck, and knew Yukimura did not see it. It sent a shiver of excitement coursing through Sanada, that secretive smirk. It felt like a promise, that they would share this secret and more in the future.


	15. Chapter 15

**Beta: **EternalAngel

**A/N: **It has been a long time since I updated, but this spring has been very busy. I apologize to anyone who has been waiting.  
Comments and critique much appreciated.

* * *

"Thank you, and goodbye Echizen-san. Please call us if you think of something or have any trouble at all. We will be happy to help in any way we can," Oishi said and bowed to Ryoma's mother, who stared at Oishi as if she couldn't believe his nerve to present her with such an offer, when it was likely they were the last people on earth she would call if she ever needed help.

When she'd slammed the door on his face and Oishi stood up from his bow, rubbing his nose even though it hadn't been hit, he thought to himself that he couldn't blame her for thinking the way she did. After all he and Inui had hardly proved themselves as qualified police officers, having lost track of a teenage boy twice now. And it didn't help Oishi's mood that if they didn't soon get some proof that the boy was in danger, they'd have to end their investigation.

All they had to back up their theory that two murders had occurred and that the murderer was now after the Echizen boy were Inui's speculations, and their superiors weren't as ready to trust Inui's theories as Oishi was. But Oishi didn't blame them. They hadn't been around to see almost every single one of Inui's predictions come true.

If Oishi hadn't known Inui, he might have been just as willing to believe that there was no case here, other than a severe case of a teenager acting up after a traumatizing event.

"I think we should go to the boy's school tomorrow," Inui said, and Oishi turned around to look at his partner. "I do not trust this Fuji-san whose appearance was far too accidental to be an accident."

"I thought he seemed pleasant," Oishi mumbled and glanced over his shoulder at the Echizen house, wondering what was going on inside. The mother had sent the boy up to his room almost immediately after they'd stepped inside, and the father had been babbling something about tennis.

"If you remember, Echizen-san is a senior," Inui said and started walking towards the gate.

"That doesn't mean anything!" Oishi shouted, and had to run after Inui, who with his longer legs moved faster than him. "You just didn't like his smile!"

"Ah, so you found it creepy as well," Inui said and grinned.

"No! I mean yes! No, the smile was creepy but that doesn't mean anything!" Oishi knew his voice had just turned whiny, but with Inui as a partner he just couldn't help it. "Just because Echizen-san is a senior, doesn't mean Fuji-san can't be his sempai that's graduated."

Inui closed the gate after Oishi had passed it and when he spoke, he was frowning, and even though Oishi couldn't see behind the thick glasses he knew there was an absent look in Inui's eyes, and the other man was lost in his thoughts. "I think we should still check with Echizen-san's teachers. We will go to Seigaku tomorrow morning."

Oishi smiled fondly when he heard the school's name. "Maybe we could visit Ryuzaki-sensei," he suggested.

Inui's face smoothed and his voice was soft when he said, "If you wish."

"It has been years, Inui, and we weren't in school anymore when …" Oishi turned away, struggling with a sudden tightness around his chest.

"I know," Inui said and grasped Oishi's shoulder in what he hoped to be a comforting grasp.

"Would you like me to call a taxi to take you home?" Inui asked.

"No, I think I'll walk," Oishi said. "There's nothing like a stroll in the dark and dangerous streets of the city in the middle of the night to cheer you up."

Inui frowned, not sure if he wanted to let Oishi venture on by himself in the state of mind he was. "I'll walk you," he finally decided.

"Thank you Inui, but you really don't have to-"

"It will do us both good. I have observed a seven percent decrease in your physical condition," Inui interrupted him.

"But I-"

"Since I wish to be home before the sun rises, I suggest we jog."

0

0

Fuji stood a few houses away from the Echizen residence, waiting, and when a light turned on upstairs, he relaxed, and then chuckled softly at himself. Here he was, determined to protect a boy he had wanted to kill only yesterday.

He'd never intended to get so attached to the boy, but he couldn't help it. A part of it was that the boy reminded him so much of Yuuta when they were still both growing up. He had the same stubbornness and short temper. Yuuta had never liked it either when he'd wanted to hold hands.

Fuji sensed Atobe long before the man embraced him from behind, pulling him tightly against his chest and pressing his mouth against Fuji's ear. "What do you think you are doing?" Atobe asked with a voice that anyone would have mistaken as pleasant and light, even Fuji if he hadn't heard Atobe speak like that when he was angry. "He is not yours to play house with. I though I made that clear."

Fuji shuddered, turned his head so their cheeks were pressed together, and wondered was it really possible to miss fear this much. "I only wanted to make sure he got home safely, since you were busy reminiscing the past with Sanada." He couldn't mask the tremble in his voice, and knew Atobe had guessed the reason for it when he felt the crooked smile against his cheek.

Atobe's fingers tangled in his hair, and the growing fear made Fuji almost giddy. "It didn't go as well as you wished, then?" he asked, not able to stop himself from prodding Atobe a little more. "Your meeting with Sanada."

Atobe pulled on Fuji's hair, bending his head backwards and placed a dry kiss on Fuji's exposed neck. "I don't think I told you," Atobe spoke slowly, his nose rubbing against the skin under Fuji's jaw. "How the other of Tezuka's little fledglings died."

"Does it make a difference how they died?" Fuji asked, not sure where Atobe was going with this.

"Oh yes." Atobe laughed against his neck. "It does."

Fuji licked his lips anxiously and waited for Atobe to speak. But when the silence continued, the fear he felt wasn't as thrilling as it had been first, and he began to worry. Atobe had threatened him before, promised to make an end of Fuji and his games, but this was the first time Fuji thought he might mean it. "Atobe," he finally spoke the others name, panic forcing him to speak and fill the nearly choking silence with sound, even if it was only the sound of his own voice.

"I drank him dry." Atobe's teeth nipped at his throat. "Used him to sate my lust for blood, and it tasted sweet, sweeter than any I've had for some time. And I wonder now, how much of the sweetness I tasted was from you."

"Tezuka's blood flows between him and me," Fuji said. "And there hasn't been a sweeter taste in anyone's blood than there was in Tezuka's."

Atobe laughed and then his fingers were around Fuji's throat, his other hand still tangled in Fuji's hair. "When will you learn," he asked. "That it isn't always wise to push me?" What Fuji felt next was searing pain when Atobe sank his teeth to his flesh, tore open the vein in his neck and drank the blood that no creature had ever before taken from him against his will. Nothing he had not granted permission to had ever pierced his immortal skin, and never had Fuji felt this vulnerable and weak in anyone's arms.

0

0

Ryoma closed the door to his room once Karupin was inside.

He walked over to his bed, turned, and sat on it with a thump, the strings of his mattress making him bounce up and down. Opposite him, leaning against the wall was his racquet bag.

Tennis really shouldn't have still meant so much to him, not after everything that had happened. Sakuno at least should have been more important to him than tennis. But she wasn't.

While everything in his life was changing, shifting from normal to surreal or just plain depressing, tennis was the one thing he could count on that would stay the same. And no one, not even Atobe could take tennis away from him, like he'd taken Sakuno.

Ryoma heard the front door downstairs close with a bang and cringed, not wanting to think about how mad his mom was. Her face had been strained, her expression furious, but she hadn't yelled. She'd spoken calmly and quietly, and ordered Ryoma to go up to his room. Only when she thanked the two people that had come with Ryoma did the boy hear the quiver in her voice, a slight tremble that told him she was trying not to pull her hand back and slap Ryoma. He thought the only thing stopping her were the two men that had come inside with Ryoma.

She'd sent him up with one finger pointing at the stairs, and feeling weak and drained, Ryoma hadn't argued.

Fuji hadn't come inside. When they reached the gate he'd untangled his fingers from Ryoma's, smiled and told him they'd see each other tomorrow. The words didn't make Ryoma feel nice, like they'd been meant to. He would've been much happier if Fuji had said he was leaving and taking Sanada with him.

He didn't like Sanada, Fuji, Kirihara, Yanagi, any of them. Atobe, he… didn't like him either. But he didn't want Atobe to leave, either, which was just twisted. He wanted Atobe to not talk to Sanada, or even Fuji. If Ryoma couldn't see Sakuno, Atobe had no right to disappear with Sanada. Especially when Fuji talked about them like they were past lovers, or something.

Karupin jumped on the bed and bucked his head against Ryoma's thigh.

"So, what am I?" he asked Karupin who just kept staring at him, wanting to be scratched behind his ears. "Gay? Or into necrophilia?" Karupin jumped on his lap and relenting, Ryoma started petting the cat. "Or just plain insane?"

Ryoma lifted his eyes to the door when it opened, and saw his dad standing in the doorway, frowning. "You really did it this time, kid," Nanjiroh said, stepped inside and closed the door. "That's two nights in a row you've gone missing. Where the hell were you?"

Nanjiroh didn't yell, he sounded like this was just another night among others, and Ryoma hadn't done anything really bad. It was a striking contrast to the frosty anger his mom had shown.

"Come on kid, you can tell me," Nanjiroh said, looking at the boy sitting on the bed, petting his cat. "Is it a girl? She get you into trouble? Because I can understand that, and we can talk about it with your mom and I'll explain it to her."

"It's not a girl," Ryoma mumbled and pushed Karupin off his lap, despite the cat's protesting mewls.

"Then what is it?" Nanjiroh's voice finally rose and there was a pleading tone in it. "You can't expect either of us to understand if you don't tell us what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong," Ryoma muttered.

Nanjiroh snorted. "You can't expect us to believe that. People don't run away just because of nothing. You're in some kind of trouble, and you need to tell us what it is so we can get you out of it."

"I wasn't running away!" Ryoma yelled.

"That's what it looked like!" Nanjiroh yelled back. "And who the hell is this Fuji kid they mentioned? You've never told us about him."

"He's…" Ryoma shrugged, and tried to think of an explanation for Fuji. "He plays tennis," he finally said.

"Really?" Nanjiroh asked. "Where?"

"At a club," Ryoma muttered.

"What club?"

"At a…" Ryoma tried to remember the names of tennis clubs in the area, but none came to his mind fast enough.

"Is his name even Fuji?" Nanjiroh asked.

"Yes!" Ryoma yelled, but then frowned, looked at the floor and mumbled, "I think."

"You think?" Nanjiroh asked, his eyebrows skyrocketing. "How can you not be sure?"

"It's not like we're close, I only met him yesterday," Ryoma said.

Nanjiroh blinked and stared at his son for a long time, trying to process what he'd just heard. "Are you telling me he's why you stood up the Ryuzaki girl? Is there something you want to tell me kid?"

Ryoma stared, mouth hanging open, trying to figure out how the hell his dad had gotten so close to the truth with his guess.

"That's it, isn't it?" Nanjiroh said, sure he'd guessed right.

"No!" Ryoma yelled. "He had nothing to do with it, it was-" Ryoma cut himself off before he mentioned Atobe's name.

"It was what?" Nanjiroh yelled the question, but Ryoma remained stubbornly silent, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Tomorrow," Nanjiroh finally said. "Tomorrow's your last chance kid. Come home straight after tennis practice, and we'll talk."

"About what?"

"About what you're going to do," Nanjiroh said. "If you're going to finish high school here, or in the States."

"In the States?" Ryoma yelled and stood up.

"What ever trouble you're in, I doubt it could follow you across the ocean," Nanjiroh said with finality. "If you don't get your act together, we're moving."

"That's overreacting, even for mom! I've been out late for two days!" Ryoma screamed, and hardly noticed when Karupin scampered under the bed to get away from the noise.

"Why are you so shocked?" Nanjiroh asked. "We were going to move anyway after you graduated. The only reason we didn't move when you finished junior high was because of your silly little thing about airports."

"It's not a silly little thing," Ryoma growled at his dad, who just waved his arms.

"A guy grins and propositions you in an airport and two years later you still won't step inside one. What would you call it?" Nanjiroh rolled his eyes. "I bet that happens to every kid. I could tell you stories that are a lot-"

"I don't want to know!" Ryoma screamed.

"I remember this one time, I was like twelve, and-"

"Shut up old man!" Ryoma raised his hands to cover his ears. He'd seen enough horrors to last a lifetime, he didn't need any more material for his nightmares. "I don't want to hear your perverted tales!"

"Perverted?! You call the tales of my glorious youth perverted!" Nanjiroh raised his face up, as if pleading the heavens to explain why his son could not understand the wisdom he could share by relating the stories of his youth. "If you had only listened to me before, then maybe your mother wouldn't be surfing the net, looking for schools in the States."

"She's looking at schools already?" Ryoma asked. "It's not that private school in New York she's always raving about, is it?"

"Oh no, no New York for you, kid!" Nanjiroh shouted, tearing his gaze from the ceiling. "She mentioned a farm. A farm, brat. With pigs. And chickens."

"What?!"

"I don't want to live on a farm," Nanjiroh's voice had lowered dangerously, and his face was stern and serious, like the time Ryoma had come near beating him in tennis. "There aren't any cute girls in school uniforms on farms! So you better come straight home from practice, or else..."

"Or else what?" Ryoma sneered, not threatened at all.

Nanjiroh leaned closer, lowered his voice even more, and whispered, "Or I'm telling your mother about the underwear."

Ryoma gasped, shocked. This was the first time his dad had threatened him with something so humiliating. Well, actually it was the first time his dad knew anything really humiliating about him, and he really should have expected this from his dad. It was still shocking to find out how far his dad would go so he could see high school girls in school uniforms.

"Actually, just so there are no chances of you ruining everything, I should come pick you up from practice tomorrow," Nanjiroh said, and tapped his forefinger against his jaw.

"No, way," Ryoma said, grinding his teeth together.

Nanjiroh grinned. "I think I should come a little early, in fact. The girls' team practices right next to you, right?" He turned, and opened the door. "Yeah, that's what I'll do."

"You're not coming to practice!" Ryoma screamed when Nanjiroh was already in the corridor.

"We'll see!" Nanjiroh answered with a cheerful shout.

0

0

"You can get up now," Fuji heard Atobe say when he came to, face pressed against the cold ground. "I didn't mean to take that much."

"Liar," Fuji murmured, still lying on the asphalt.

"You're right, sorry," Atobe's voice was closer, and then he was beside Fuji, brushing his hair. "I didn't mean to take any."

Fuji opened his eyes to look at the man, and was surprised to see that Atobe looked truly penitent. "Then why did you?" he asked, partly because he was curious, and partly because he was pissed off. Atobe had no right to bleed him so dry that his vision went blank, and the next thing he was conscious of was the cold ground beneath him and the comfort of the strong arms, holding him tightly gone. He would have liked it better, to wake in Atobe's arms. A more sincere apology would have been nice.

"I could go get you a cookie," Atobe suggested, amused. No doubt he'd been eavesdropping on Fuji's thoughts, and that annoyed Fuji even more.

"Why a cookie?" he asked, despite his annoyance.

"I hear that's what they give to people who participate in blood drives." Atobe chuckled after his words.

"You didn't answer," Fuji reminded, instead of replying to Atobe's ridiculous suggestion.

"Sanada made me edgy," Atobe answered, shrugging. "And then you made me angry. What did you think would happen after I saw the two of you hold hands?"

"I didn't know you were watching," Fuji said, and then realized it probably wouldn't have made a difference even if he had known. "What did Sanada tell you?"

"The same thing he always speaks of," Atobe answered. "His delusions. But the dead do not return, and you can't breathe life into a pile of ash."

Fuji had his own opinions about that, especially after the way he'd seen Yanagi act. After all, one pile of ash looked very much like any other pile of ash.

"Are you going to lie there until the sun gets up?" Atobe asked him.

"For some strange reason I feel very weak. Almost like someone had drained me," Fuji replied and when Atobe laughed, there was true amusement in the sound.

"I could just leave you here," Atobe smirked, but despite his words picked Fuji into his arms and stood up. "I have no interest in finding out where you've decided to nest, so I'm taking you with me to my hotel," he said.

"Will you tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?" Fuji asked, fisting his hand on Atobe's coat.

"If you don't behave, I'll give you a goodnight kiss." The way Atobe said it, told Fuji clearly that it wasn't a peck on the forehead Atobe meant.

"I'll be good," Fuji promised with a grin, closed his eyes and rested his head on Atobe's shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

**Beta:** EternalAngel

**A/N: **Comments and critique appreciated.

* * *

Inui sat in front of his computer at the police station, the colours on the computer screen, white, blue and grey in different shades reflecting off his glasses, shifting positions every time his finger clicked on the mouse, and another picture of a young man, between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five, with light brown hair, and a mole, or possibly a tattoo under his right eye appeared on the screen. There were a lot of young men with light brown hair, some with a tattoo under their right eye, but none with a mole, and none of them was the man he had now seen twice, in the proximity of Echizen Ryoma.

He had intended to tell Oishi he had seen the young man they saw yesterday following them today, but when Oishi had been so obviously distressed by thoughts of their days in school, he hadn't had the heart to shock him any further. So instead he had returned to the police station to look through mug shots, hoping that maybe the man he had seen had a criminal record.

There seemed to be an endless amount of young men that had light brown hair in Tokyo, and he thought there would be even more once he would expand his search to cover all of Japan. He wished he'd know more, had seen more of the man so he could narrow the search. He had a feeling that the man was the key to this whole thing, that if he could only find him, he could protect Echizen Ryoma and solve the murders no one but him seemed to think had even occurred.

But there had been two murders, and possibly more, Inui was sure of it. There had been multiple disappearances in the area in which Echizen Ryoma had been attacked, and he knew they were connected. Too many similarities for them to be just coincidences.

Inui did not believe in coincidences. He believed in numbers and statistics, and there was something odd about the statistics of those disappearances. They did not resemble the statistics of any other disappearance Inui had investigated.

All of the people that had disappeared had been people that had no reason to run, and no enemies that would have resorted to kidnapping or murder. They had almost all gone missing after dark, none during the day, and not one body had ever been found. And the area they had disappeared from was a peaceful neighbourhood where there weren't many crimes committed, and even those were mostly just feuds between neighbours, and a few burglaries. Hardly any homicides or violent crimes.

Inui glanced at the computer screen once more, and at the young man's photograph filling one third of the screen. There was almost nothing in the young man that resembled the man Inui had seen, other than the light brown hair and a tear tattoo in the corner of his right eye. His face was too angular, and chin too long. Inui wondered would he even recognize the man from a photograph. After all he had only seen the man twice, and both times from a distance.

He closed the computer, deciding to try an alternate way of finding the man. From what he had seen, the man wore expensive clothing and carried himself in an arrogant manner that suggested he was born into wealth. That he was seen around Echizen Ryoma suggested he was involved with the boy and the incident in some way. Those things together told Inui of a criminal who could buy himself, if not freedom, than at least a cop, or perhaps two.

And Inui knew just the cop to call about that.

Inui picked up his briefcase and with a brief nod to the detectives still working beside their desks, Yagyuu and Akutsu, left the police station and headed for the parking lot.

He waited until he was sitting inside his car before he made the phone call.

0

0

Akutsu crushed his cigarette on an ashtray and picked up the phone that was silently vibrating on top of a pile of papers he hadn't bothered to read through. "Yeah," he answered.

"_I need you to find someone for me,"_ Inui said as a greeting.

The only reason Akutsu didn't hang up on Inui, was that they were both friends with Kawamura. And Kawamura fed Akutsu. One mention from Inui that Akutsu had not 'behaved' and his free sushi might be in danger.

"Sure, what's the bastard's name?" Akutsu asked, and pulled a piece of paper from the pile on his desk, turned it over and took a pen from a mug that had an image of a cute little pink kitty with a yellow ribbon painted on it. Only one person had ever laughed at the mug.

"_I do not know,"_ Inui said. _"I have only seen him a few times." _

"Then how do you expect me to find him?" Akutsu asked, but made another question right after it before Inui had time to respond to the first one. "What does he look like?"

While writing down the details Inui told him, Akutsu kept his other eye on Yagyuu who most clearly wasn't paying any attention to Akutsu, and was most definitely not trying to listen in on the conversation. God forbid the fucking Gentleman would try to do something like eavesdrop, or spy. Not Yagyuu, the cop who lived by the fucking rule book.

When Inui was done, Akutsu hung up on him without saying goodbye, or before Inui could thank him. He didn't want to hear it.

Everyone always called him when they wanted to know something they thought only a corrupt cop would know. They all called him, but never talked to him in the office because they didn't want to be labelled as corrupt by being seen with him.

The fucked up thing was, Akutsu was squeaky clean. He'd never taken a bribe, or looked the other way, or lost some evidence by accident.

He had a reputation for a bad cop, but none of the perks. And the guy that had the reputation as a good cop reaped the benefits from both.

He fucking hated Yagyuu.

Akutsu stuck his hand in his pocket to get another cigarette and cursed when he found out he had none left. Stealing another glance at Yagyuu Akutsu stuck the paper he'd written down the details Inui had told him on his desk drawer, locked it and pocketed the key and after throwing the empty cigarette pack to the trash can, left the room.

Yagyuu waited till he was sure Akutsu was gone, then stood up from behind his desk and walked over to Akutsu's desk. He picked up Akutsu's phone, went through the phone log to see who Akutsu had spoken to, and a thin smile formed on his lips. Next he took out a duplicate of the key Akutsu had used and opened the drawer Akutsu was always so careful to lock and didn't have to search long. There was only one thing in the drawer that hadn't been there before.

When he was done reading the paper, and had locked the drawer again, he returned to his desk and called a number he had memorized, let it ring for two times and then hung up. By the time Akutsu returned with a pack of cigarettes Yagyuu's phone had beeped, informing him of a new message.

0

0

Atobe walked along the streets of the now quiet city with no set destination in mind. He had left his hotel room knowing that despite Fuji's almost sedated state now, it would soon turn to hunger, and Fuji would turn to the closest source of blood, him. Hoping sleep would take away the hunger, Atobe had left. He had no desire to stay and listen to Fuji's silken voice plead for a little taste, a little fear in the back of his mind that if he stayed, he would let Fuji do anything he wanted.

Atobe had contemplated on calling room-service up for Fuji, but had dismissed the thought quickly. He had enough trouble with the police because of his involvement with Ryoma, a dead hotel employee was something he could not afford now.

The thought of Ryoma made Atobe frown, the fact that the boy had such an affect on him was displeasing, but he could not ignore the truth of it.

He had nearly killed Fuji, and argued with Sanada because of the boy. He had never before been so hostile in his arguments with Sanada. They had quarrelled before this, fought even, but there had always been a lack of any true hostility between them. But that had changed today, and Atobe was still surprised by his own violent reaction when Sanada had spoken of Ryoma, surprised by the strength of his emotions, of how deeply involved he was.

The boy was the first in centuries that he had felt anything for. Curiosity might have been the catalyst for it, his surprise that the boy could still live after losing so much blood, after his throat had been torn. Curiosity that had only grown stronger when the boy had followed him.

He had asked the boy to choose between himself and the woman, expecting the boy to be noble and sacrifice himself. Truthfully Atobe did not know what someone else would have answered given the same choice, he had never asked the question from someone else. Most would have no doubt chosen their own lives, and Atobe would have had no qualms killing them after that. He had meant to do so with the boy, but his answer to his second question, why he had come to Atobe and not ran or hidden, had made him not to want it, the boy's death.

He had first thought to play with the boy, then kill him. Now he found himself wanting the boy to live. And it confused him, that desire, because it contradicted with his hunger for the boy's blood. The blood he had taken from the boy last night was not enough to sate his hunger, but he could not bare the thought of the boy dead. He could even less bare the thought of Fuji touching the boy.

A movement at the edge of his vision caught Atobe's attention, and he was drawn to it because it was too swift to be caused by anything human. The scent of blood, cold and dead, lingered in the air.

He turned to look at the alley from where the scent came from, but saw nothing in the shadows. Slowly he stepped deeper into the darkness, and soon noticed the body on the ground, its back leaning against the wall, head slumped against the chest, long blond hair coloured pink by blood hiding the face.

Atobe knelt down next to the body and his eyes landed on the knife that had been struck deep into its chest. The blood stain on the shirt was still growing; it had not been long since the man had been killed. There were wounds on the man's neck, made by sharp canine teeth. Among them were shallow, long cuts that looked like they had been made by a sharp blade, perhaps with the one now sticking out of his chest. More cuts and bruises on the man's arms, some partially healed, others only a few hours old. Whoever it was that had done this to the man had taken their time.

It was an eerily familiar situation for him, to find a body in this condition. Everything about the wounds, even on the bite marks reeked with a familiarity that sent waves of disbelief through his mind. The shallow wounds that had no meaning other than to bleed the victim, cause pain and rouse terror.

Sanada's words returned to Atobe, the man's futile hope and constant dream of Yukimura's return. _'Sometimes I hear his voice when the sun rises, and I think…'_

Annoyed with Sanada for making him even think of it, Atobe growled and shook his head. He had heard the pained screams when the sun rose, had felt the pain of its rays burning away Yukimura's skin, had seen the ashes - all that had remained of Yukimura. Nothing could have survived it. And yet he had searched, Sanada had searched, they all had. Had there been anything to find, they would have found it.

Atobe took hold of the knife embedded in the man's chest and pulled it free. It slid out easily, and when more blood spilled from the wound Atobe's nose scrunched up as the overwhelming stench of the dead man's blood assaulted him.

"Hey, everything alright there?" A man shouted from the end of the alley, and took a step forward. But when he saw Atobe kneeling next to the body, holding a knife, he stopped, shouted, "Shit!" and backed away.

Atobe glanced back at the knife he held, then at the body, and at the man again. He opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say. The man would have to die, and that simple fact suddenly sickened Atobe and rooted him to his spot. He could have reached the man in a second, killed him instantly, before he even had the chance to take in another breath. But Atobe couldn't move, did not want to stand from his spot by the body because it would mean he had taken yet another life, for no purpose other than to silence him. He did not even have the excuse of feeding. He would have to kill the man because he had been careless enough to let himself be seen in front of a dead body with a knife in his hand.

A sleek shadow dropped down behind the man, slender fingers covered his mouth and twisted his head back, and a hungry mouth was buried in the man's neck. His death was quick and silent, too fast for any fear to show on his face, for any words to be uttered.

Atobe stood up, his hold on the knife so tight it was almost painful. He flung it through the air towards the shadow that caught it and grinned, a flash of crimson flashing across the surface of the black eyes.

"Look at that," Atobe said with a sneer. "Fits you like a glove."

The grin dropped from Kirihara's face, and he growled. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at Atobe with the hilt of the knife and snarled. "I had nothing to do with that. Just thought I'd do you a favour, since you looked petrified. Guess I shouldn't have expected anything so simple like gratitude from you."

"Are you telling me this isn't the type of thing you would do?" Atobe gestured back towards the body. "Someone's been feeding off him for days, carved marks on him, if not with that knife, then with some other blade. We both know who liked to play like that."

Kirihara looked shocked, but Atobe was not willing to believe the shock as genuine. In an instant Kirihara had abandoned his victim and appeared next to Atobe so he could look at the body. "You're right," Kirihara said. "This is something I might do just to fuck with your head. But I didn't."

"Who then? Yanagi? Sanada would not do this." Atobe decided to at least pretend that he believed Kirihara. Maybe that would result in him saying something he had not intended to say.

"It wasn't either of us, Atobe," Kirihara said, glaring at him. "We came here today. Yanagi's been with me the whole time after we met Sanada, and even before that. He wouldn't have been able to slip away from me to do this."

"Then who?" Atobe asked, moved from Kirihara's side and let his gaze wander on the roofs of the buildings on both their sides. If what Kirihara had said was the truth, then the person that had left the body was probably still around, waiting to see his reaction.

"How the hell should I know all your enemies!" Kirihara snapped, but then continued in a contemplative tone, tapping his chin with the knife's hilt. "It's pretty freaky, though. Like one of those copycat killers. I bet whoever did this is pretty pissed at you for killing Yukimura, enough to want to spook you with a victim that looks like it was killed by him."

"I did not kill Yukimura!" Atobe yelled, and Kirihara's head snapped up to look at him.

"Oh come on," Kirihara grinned. "Don't even try to tell me you fucking wept for him, or that you hadn't been planning what happened for weeks, maybe even for years. You killed him alright. You might not have inflected any physical harm on him, but you killed him."

"I didn't know he would react the way he did," Atobe hissed and turned away, some regret sounding in his voice.

"Like hell you didn't," Kirihara's voice lowered, and the grin left his face. "You knew what Sanada meant to him, what hearing words like that coming from Sanada's mouth would do to him."

"Yes I wanted him to suffer, to be in pain! But I did not think he would kill himself!" Atobe screamed, turning back to face Kirihara. "I cannot be at fault for his weaknesses!"

"Careful," Kirihara whispered with a malicious glint in his dark eyes. "You don't want to degrade him too much in front of me."

Atobe snorted. "And what makes you think you can threaten me?" he asked, a mocking smirk on his lips. "You still haven't grown strong enough to challenge me."

Kirihara growled, his fingers tightening around the knife's handle, eyes narrowing, and he crouched, preparing to jump at Atobe, who stood where he was, head thrown back, smirking. And then jumped. Atobe's face went completely blank, and he stared at his pants pocket that had begun vibrating.

"What the…?" Kirihara commented, his eyes glued to the front of Atobe's pants. "That's not normal, even for a living human."

"It's my phone, you idiot!" Atobe snapped, and pulled out a small, red phone from his pocket.

"I knew that," Kirihara quickly said, and Atobe snorted. "Why do you need a phone, anyway?" he asked.

"It became necessary a few years ago," Atobe said. "How can you exist without one?"

"Not like I know anyone with a phone," Kirihara mumbled. "But I suppose I could get one, if you tell me your phone number?"

"No."

"You could at least pretend to think about it," Kirihara said with a little pout.

"Alright," Atobe was silent for a few moments. "No. Are you satisfied now?"

Kirihara's eyes narrowed and he looked down, his eyes landing on the bodies. "We should probably do something about these before someone else stumbles here."

"I agree," Atobe said, his attention shifting back to his phone. A few moments later he pocketed the phone and turned contemplative eyes to Kirihara. He turned his head to the side, and looked silently at Kirihara who began to fidget under the gaze. "Come on. You can carry them."

Before Kirihara could even start to form a protest in his head, Atobe was already walking away. "Fucking asshole," Kirihara muttered, and kicked one of the bodies.


	17. Chapter 17

**Beta:**EternalAngel

**A/N: **This chapter doesn't really answer any questions either, but it does keep the plot moving, and that's a good thing… Isn't it?  
Comments and criticism appreciated.

* * *

Akutsu parked his car a few spaces from where Yagyuu had parked his, and watched as the other man crossed the street and walked into the hotel across the street. It was almost three o' clock in the morning, but the lights in the hotel lobby were still on, and Akutsu knew the bar was still open.

It was an upscale place, not the kind Akutsu normally went to, because the staff in those places seemed to instinctively know that Akutsu didn't belong there, and after a few suspicious looks asked him very politely to leave. Some of the times Akutsu flashed his police ID at them and told them to get lost. Most of the time he just told them to get lost.

And it really wasn't the kind of place he liked to hang out, anyway. He preferred places that didn't have such good lighting, where you could still blow smoke on the bartenders face without someone bitching at you about health regulations.

Akutsu grinned at his reflection in the rear view mirror. He hated it when people underestimated him, but even that had its advantages. Yagyuu had never during the years their desks had been next to each other, wondered why Akutsu always left to get cigarettes after he'd locked something in his drawer.

Akutsu stepped out of his car and crossed the street to the hotel. The receptionist in the brightly lit lobby didn't even bother to glance up when Akutsu passed him and headed for the bar.

It was a nice, clean place with dark wood and red carpeting. On his right, by the windows were four booths, and in one of them Akutsu saw a man fitting Inui's description. Hunching his back, hoping he didn't stick out too much, Akutsu walked over to the booth next to the one the man was sitting in and sat down, his back against a wall he was sure separated him from Yagyuu.

He didn't have to wait for too long until Yagyuu confirmed his suspicions by speaking. "I need confirmation first, before I tell you anything."

"The money will be there by morning," replied a smooth and polished voice that held a strange accent Akutsu could not place. It was unlike any he had heard before. "Providing you have anything that interests me."

"I wouldn't have contacted you otherwise." Yagyuu answered. "You told me to keep an eye on the Echizen case, and I have. They've started looking for you."

"And this is all you know?" There was a small, amused chuckle. "You really must be desperate for cash."

"I thought you wanted to know right away if someone was asking about you." Akutsu could imagine the frown on Yagyuu's forehead, and nearly sneered aloud at the 'oh so genuine' puzzlement in the voice. "Inui-san has also been linking some disappearances together with what happened to the boy."

"What disappearances?" The other man asked, and Akutsu leaned back, the answer interesting him as well.

"Can I take your order, sir?" A waitress appeared next to Akutsu, and he scowled at her.

"The ones in the area Echizen Ryoma was attacked."

Akutsu tried shooing the waitress away, not wanting to speak, because he knew Yagyuu would recognize his voice.

"Still not enough, considering how much I'm paying you," the other man spoke slowly, but his voice picked up a lighter tone as he continued. "But don't worry. I've left something for you in your car that will make this an… honest trade. I trust you know what to do with them."

"I'm sorry sir, I don't understand. What would like to drink?" Akutsu made a few more hand sings, but the waitress was insistent, and there was now a slight frown on her forehead. "If you are not going to order anything sir, I will have to ask you to leave."

"He'll have a beer," someone answered for him, and Akutsu looked at the man that had appeared next to the waitress. The man looked just like any other man in the bar. He was dressed in a standard brown business suite with a blue grey tie, had brown hair and eyes… that he kept closed.

"And you sir?" the waitress asked, smiling pleasantly at the man that had ordered for Akutsu. "What may I bring you?"

"Oh, the same, I think," the man smiled at the girl and then sat opposite Akutsu, who if he'd dared to speak, would have told the man to fuck off. "There's no reason to stay quiet anymore. He's gone now," the man said.

Akutsu glared at the man, then stood up and looked at the booth behind his back, and found it empty. He swore and turned his eyes back on the man that had apparently decided to be his companion for the rest of the evening.

"Why don't you sit down, Akutsu-san," the man suggested, and Akutsu's frown deepened.

"Who the fuck are you, and how the hell do you know my name?" he growled, pissed that he had missed the chance to find out what exactly it was that the other man had left in Yagyuu's car. He was sure it would have been something that would finally land Yagyuu behind bars. And he'd missed his chance - perhaps his only chance - to bring down Yagyuu.

"Sit down, and I will tell you," the man said, and by the time he had finished speaking the waitress had returned with the beers. "An ashtray, if you would?" the man said to the girl, who just smiled and nodded at the request, when Akutsu was sure he'd seen a no smoking sign on the wall when he'd stepped inside.

"Please, Akutsu-san. I promise it will be worth your time." There was nothing very threatening in the words, or in the man's voice, but Akutsu still felt a sharp flash of danger. His first instinct was to just walk out, but it seemed cowardly to do so, so he sat down. After some time had passed, that they spent in silence, the waitress reappeared with an ashtray, and Akutsu lit up a cigarette, waiting for someone to come and yell at him, but no one even glanced in their direction.

"So, who the fuck are you?" he asked, after blowing the smoke from his lungs.

"My name is Yanagi," the man answered. "And as for who I am…" the man smiled for the first time, and Akutsu did not like the look of it. Something in it made him feel small and vulnerable. He sucked on his cigarette, trying to draw out more nicotine from the cancer stick, but it felt like all he was sucking to his lungs was tar. "That is a question for another time."

"What the fuck do you want with me then?" Akutsu asked, and put out the cigarette when he noticed his hand was shaking. There was no fucking way he would let this man think he'd affected him in any way.

"To help you," Yanagi answered. "The man your colleague was speaking with, his name is Atobe Keigo. He has a room in this hotel, and he shares it with another man called Fuji Syusuke."

"So he's a poof," Akutsu glared. "Don't really interest me." Yanagi smiled indulgently, and Akutsu bristled. He fucking hated people who tried to look down on him.

"You will not find either of their names in any official papers," Yanagi continued to speak. "Atobe holds a great fortune that he has used over the years to ensure that neither he, nor any of the people he considers as part of his circle appear in them. People like your colleague Yagyuu have ensured this. But I can assure you, Atobe Keigo and Fuji Syusuke are involved in most of the disappearances that have occurred in the Kantou region over the past decade."

"The past decade?" Akutsu asked, laughed dryly and dug out another cigarette, finally convinced the man was just some nutter who happened to be lucky enough to get some actual information. If what the man suggested was true, Atobe would have had to be much older, for him to be involved in criminal activity ten years ago. The man hadn't looked much older than twenty. "What are you suggesting? Yakuza kidnappings? A government conspiracy? Either way, not my area. I work in violent crimes, not in organized crime or missing persons. So go find someone who's interested in your fucking conspiracy theories."

He stood up but an order, "Sit down," spoken with an icy tone froze him to the spot. "I will not ask you again." Slowly, Akutsu sat down, with an unfamiliar feeling, fear, crawling around inside him. "Finish your drink," Yanagi said, his tone pleasant again.

Akutsu extended his right hand, unclenched his fist and coiled his fingers around the cool glass, but didn't lift the drink to his mouth. He licked his lips, looked at Yanagi, and felt a hankering need for a cigarette he could twirl between his fingertips and for the smoke to fill his lungs, for the nicotine that would calm his nerves, even though he'd just finished one. But the presence of this man was unnerving and required more than one half assed smoke to be tolerated. And maybe he needed alcohol, or something stronger to act cool around this man.

"In time I will provide you with proficient evidence so that you can link both Atobe and Fuji to the disappearances. But for now, I trust you will be satisfied with putting your colleague Yagyuu Hiroshi behind bars." Yanagi's voice was devoid of any kind of emotion, but it was the clear lack of it, that convinced Akutsu there was much passion behind this. This was revenge, pure and simple. He'd seen enough of them to know.

"What the hell did they ever do to you?" he asked, even if he didn't really expect Yanagi to answer.

Yanagi gave him a slow smile. "Why nothing, Akutsu-san. Nothing at all."

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Yagyuu felt paranoia grip him when he stepped out of the booth. Every face that looked at him hid sinister thoughts, every pair of footsteps he heard were following him, and every single person in the bar had heard what Atobe had just told him.

Something in his car, something he needed to get rid of.

Drugs? Confidential documents? Bodies?

No, couldn't be bodies. Anything else, yes, but a body? Atobe wasn't stupid. He wouldn't give Yagyuu leverage like that. If Yagyuu had a body Atobe wanted to get rid of, he'd have evidence that could send Atobe to jail. Something to hang over his head, to get more money.

After all, blackmail wasn't that big of a stretch for a dirty cop. If you were willing to make some evidence disappear or leak some information for a price, what was so different about asking money to not leak information?

Yagyuu hurried out of the hotel and across the street to his car. His hands were trembling when he dug out the car keys and tried to look through the windows, to see if there was anything in the front or backseat, but saw nothing. Maybe it was hidden under the seat, in his glove compartment?

And how had Atobe gotten inside his car? And when? The man had been sitting at the bar when Yagyuu had arrived, and he'd gone straight in after he'd parked.

It didn't matter, Yagyuu decided, when he was finally sitting in the driver's seat. He wouldn't start searching his car, for whatever insane surprise Atobe had planned for him, until he got into a more secluded place.

0

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Atobe was insane, was the first thought that crossed Yagyuu's mind when he opened his trunk. The second one included a prison cell with him in it.

But that would only happen if he got careless and screwed up. All he had to do was get rid of the bodies. The possibility of blackmail had fled his mind the moment he'd seen the marks of torture on the other body. If Atobe had done this, there was no telling what he would do to someone that tried to blackmail him.

But how do you get rid of bodies? Yagyuu had seen his fair share of body dumps, but the problem with all of them was that none had remained secret. He had no idea how to dump bodies so they wouldn't be found.

And these bodies he could not afford to get found. They had been in his trunk for at least an hour, and Yagyuu did not remember the last time he had cleaned his trunk. He kept his gym clothes there, his luggage, groceries, his briefcase. There was no telling what had stuck to the bodies, if one of them had a piece of his hair with DNA in it, stuck somewhere in the clothes or the skin.

Yagyuu took out his phone and stared at it. He could call Atobe and admit he knew nothing about disposing bodies. And lose the money. Atobe would not pay much for just the information – that he had made clear.

And it was not even certain that Atobe would answer. He had never waited long enough to see if he would, before he hung up.

Yagyuu made his decision, pressed a few buttons and waited. The wait for someone to answer seemed long, too long and Yagyuu grew anxious. Finally he heard a familiar voice answer, and could easily imagine the wide smirk on the other's face.

"Hello Niou-kun," Yagyuu said. "I need your help."

0

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He had met Niou years ago at a scene of a murder.

The victim had been beaten to death. There hadn't been much left of his face to make a positive identification, and he'd been robbed. There were no witnesses, though the street was far from deserted. It wasn't unusual. People were afraid in this part of town, and knew when not to see anything.

Yagyuu had still asked around, and had finally come across a man with bleached hair, and a long rat-tail at the nape of his neck, a cocky grin and something you could call a beauty mark on his chin. _"Did you see anything?"_ Yagyuu had asked, expecting the answer to be the same it had been dozen's of times before.

"_Not a thing,"_ the man had answered, just as Yagyuu had expected. _"But tell you what. You ask around there,"_ he'd pointed at a bar a few doors down the street. _"And you might find someone who's seen something." _

Yagyuu had looked at the bar the man had pointed at and frowned. The neon sign hanging in its barred up window that promoted some beer brand was crooked, and it was missing a letter. There wasn't any music or voices coming from inside and he would have thought it closed, if someone hadn't just then staggered inside.

"_Thank you,"_ Yagyuu had told the man, and had received grin for an answer.

"_Niou,"_ the man had said and when Yagyuu'd just stared, he'd grinned again. _"Usually this is the part where people tell me their name." _

"_I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were introducing yourself,"_ Yagyuu answered truthfully. He'd thought the man had spoken the bar's name, or given some other clue. _"Yagyuu Hiroshi." _

Niou had chuckled at that and left, and Yagyuu had waved one of the other officers to follow him to the bar.

The bar had been dim because of bad lighting and cigarette smoke, but it was enough for them to spot out a man with bruised knuckles and blood on his shirt. They got a drunken confession filled with bravado, and the next morning the man's shirt had disappeared along with the stolen wallet they'd found on him.

He was out by nightfall. It turned out the man's father was a wealthy business man that could afford an expensive lawyer.

The following week was Yagyuu's mother's birthday and he bought her a new wide screen TV. She loved it, like all the other gifts Yagyuu bought her.

Yagyuu saw Niou many times after that, and sometimes the meetings ended with Yagyuu's mother receiving another gift from her son.

Friends were not something Yagyuu had a multitude of, and Niou was different from anyone else he'd named as such. He didn't go for a drink with Niou, or play golf with him, and he never lied to Niou. He'd sometimes wondered if he was even capable of lying to Niou. He'd never tried, but neither had he experimented with the truth. He didn't feel the need to bare his soul and confess his sins to Niou, and somehow he got the feeling it would be pointless anyway.

Niou wasn't naïve or stupid. He knew that not every criminal he told Yagyuu about ended up behind bars, especially not when they had money or influence. But Niou didn't stop feeding him information, and never asked for his share.

And Yagyuu never asked him for anything. Never until now.

And that made him nervous.

Niou's voluntary help might have been free, but what would be the price when Yagyuu asked for it?

0

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Yagyuu killed his car engine and stepped out, looking at the vacant parking lot he'd driven to. Tall buildings surrounded the area and it was so packed with cars, he had trouble finding a place to park his own, but he finally found an empty spot after driving around for ten minutes. Ten long minutes of agony, sweating with the knowledge that he had two dead bodies in the trunk of his car.

Forcing the panic to subside Yagyuu got out of his car, and walked around it, hoping to clear his head. When he returned to the front, Niou was lying on the hood of the car, arms behind his head, one knee bent, chewing on a red plastic straw. He was dressed in a dark grey suit, white shirt and a loose, grey-blue tie was hanging from his neck. He had black dress shoes on his feet and a black leather belt to match them. He looked like a school boy that was skipping school.

He'd known Niou for years, but the other man never changed in appearance. He must have been as old as Yagyuu by now, almost in his thirties, but he still looked as young as he had when they first met.

Niou had his eyes closed, but he opened one eye, when Yagyuu stopped to stand next to him.

"You know I ain't gonna do this for free," Niou told him, speaking slowly, not bothering to sit up.

"You don't even know what I'm asking of you," Yagyuu said.

"I know what's in the trunk," Niou said, shocking Yagyuu. "You wanna know the price for it?"

"No," Yagyuu said. "Whatever it is, you'll have it, but just… get rid of them."

Niou sat up and grinned in a disturbing way that hinted of violence and hunger, lust that he had only glimpsed of before this. Something dark that made Yagyuu's pulse speed up and his hands sweat. Worry, that this was not such good idea began to seep to his mind, fear of what Niou might ask.

"That's stupid, Yagyuu. You don't know what I'm gonna ask for," Niou said when he slid down from the car and stepped closer, still grinning. He reached Yagyuu and stopped beside him so their bodies were aligned, and Yagyuu could for the first time that night truly see Niou's eyes. He was held captive by the strange, translucent quality of them. Almost like water, reflecting in them any colour that surrounded them. One minute green, the next blue and then black with streaks of red and silver.

"Since you're being stupid, and not at all like yourself, Yagyuu, I'm gonna be smart for the both of us, and tell you what I want, before I let you agree to this." Niou tilted his head back, so his face was fully in Yagyuu's field of vision. "And what I want is very simple. It's just an answer to a question." He leant closer, and when he spoke again, his breath ghosted against the side of Yagyuu's face." An honest answer."

"What is the question?" Yagyuu asked, the closeness of their bodies not bothering him. It had, in the beginning, when he had not grown accustomed to Niou's odd need to be so close, and invade his personal space. Yagyuu did not embrace even his mother spontaneously, but like in so many other ways, Niou was an exception to his rules.

Niou grinned. "Don't be so hasty," he warned, a playful glint in his now grey eyes. "Listen to it all, before you agree."

Niou waited for Yagyuu's nod before he continued. "If you lie, this little," Niou waved his hand between the two of them "Deal between us, is over. I'll quit stopping by, won't answer if you call me, stop helping you, giving you all those tasty little tips that have helped increase your mother's jewellery collection. You'll never see me again and I bet it won't be long before you start missing the extra cash I make for you."

Yagyuu blinked, and stepped back. He had not expected that Niou would be this adamant, that he would be willing to cut all ties between them, if Yagyuu would not comply.

But all Niou wanted was an honest answer to one question. How bad could it be?

"Alright, what is the question?" Yagyuu asked, and Niou's grin disappeared.

"Who told you to get rid of the bodies?"

Yagyuu felt the blood drain from his face and his fingers grew cold. Why would Niou ask that? Out of everything he could have asked, anything he might have demanded from Yagyuu he wanted to know this? Telling the truth, telling Niou who it had been was dangerous. If Atobe ever found out, he'd be dead.

He could still lie, tell Niou some other name besides Atobe. But something in Niou's face when he's asked the question, in the way he'd laid out the rules for this exchange, told Yagyuu he already knew the answer. And why would Niou ask if he already knew?

"Pick another question," Yagyuu told him.

"That's not how the game is played," Niou said, not even a hint of the grin left on his face, and it seemed wrong. Niou should have been grinning. Had he been grinning, this would not have been so serious. "You agreed," Niou continued when Yagyuu did not speak. "Not answering is the same as lying."

"You already know," Yagyuu said, certain of it now. "Why ask, if you already know?"

Now the grin returned to Niou's face and there was something like pride in it. The bastard was proud of Yagyuu for figuring it out.

And it suddenly made sense why Niou would ask that, even though he knew the answer. His voice remained calm, but he was furious when he asked, "You want to know if I trust you with my life? Is that it?"

Niou didn't answer, but neither did he deny it, and that was enough for Yagyuu.

It should have been an easy choice to make. It would be beyond idiotic to risk his life because Niou wanted a proclamation of trust, some kind of proof that Yagyuu cared for him.

Would it really be so difficult to not see Niou again? To lose the one person who really knew who he was and still accepted him? Liked him despite, or maybe because of what he was.

"So what's it gonna be, Yagyuu?" Niou asked, something making his ever present grin waver. Hesitance, worry, fear? "We can't still be here when the sun comes up. We both got places to be."

"Atobe Keigo," Yagyuu spoke the name with no warning, and received some satisfaction from the shock on Niou's face.

"You actually fucking answered," Niou whispered and shook his head. "You…" Niou looked away and muttered "Idiot," under his breath. There was not much of a sting in the word, and Yagyuu thought it sounded almost affectionate.

Yagyuu heard Niou take in a deep breath and then speak with his back still turned. "Alright, you can get the hell out of here now, go home and get some sleep."

"But what about the-"

"Not your problem anymore," Niou answered and his words were followed by a sound that came from someone slamming shut the trunk lid. "So go home and sleep. I'll take care of it."

Yagyuu remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the back of Niou's head and his rigid back. "What's wrong Niou-kun? You're acting like you hadn't wanted me to answer." Yagyuu asked, his voice laced with laughter. Amused that Niou acted like this he stepped forward and placed his hand on Niou's shoulder and tugged, but the other man did not turn.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear the answer," Niou said, and when Yagyuu's grip tightened he tensed.

Eventually Yagyuu took his hand from Niou's shoulder and returned to his car. When he sat in the driving seat and looked back, Niou was gone.

0

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Niou slid open the side door of a silver van, stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind him. There was enough room in the back for the two bodies on the floor, and him, and enough room still left that they could have fitted three more people comfortably.

"What do you want to do now?" the driver, a kid with caramel red hair asked. "We burn those?" he pointed at the bodies and chewed on his bubblegum.

Niou kneeled down and reached out to turn the closest body on its back. He stared at the vacant, dead eyes and reached out to close the lids, but hesitated with his hand hovering over the face. Finally he fisted his hand and pulled it away. "No," he answered.

"Then what? Dump them somewhere? I thought the point was that no one would find them."

Niou reached over to his jacket pocket and took out something he had wrapped in a handkerchief. He pulled back some of the fabric and revealed the tip of a silver pen.

"Where'd you get that?" the driver asked.

"From Yagyuu," Niou answered, and without looking up, struck the pen violently in the neck of the body, pulled it back and struck the pen down again, making sure to eradicate the bite marks on the neck, and finally leaving it on the neck, sticking out like an antenna. "Get this van moving, and take us to some alley where we can dump these."

"You're a real asshole, Niou, you know that?" the kid asked, and started the car.

Niou shrugged, placed the handkerchief back in his pocket, and climbed up front to sit next to the kid. "Just drive, Marui."


	18. Chapter 18

**Beta:** EternalAngel

**A/N: **It has been over a year since I posted the first chapter of this story. So this is a kind of anniversary post, with the exception that unlike other anniversaries, this isn't a happy one.  
Over a year, and only 18 chapters? I should be ashamed of myself.

Comments and critique very much welcomed, even flames, since this is a celebratory post.

* * *

"Here we are!" Oishi grinned at the school buildings and the tennis club's locker room. When his gaze found the tennis court filled with boys in the midst of morning practice, his smile grew fonder.

"Seigaku," Inui said, reading the name form the large sign by the school gates. "What were the chances that we would ever return here because of work?"

"You're asking me about probabilities, Inui?" Oishi chuckled warmly. "But not very high, I think."

"One doesn't expect a murder investigation to lead you back to your old school," Inui agreed.

"You think we should go see sensei first?" Oishi asked, and Inui looked at his watch.

"If she still keeps up with her old routine and is still coaching the tennis team, she should be there now."

Oishi's smiled nervously at the thought of meeting their old coach, who he'd last seen as a kid. "I guess we're going then," he said, heaving in a deep breath.

The still familiar sounds of the tennis courts soon reached their ears, as they walked towards the courts, and amongst the many voices they recognized a female one that rang with authority that came from years of dealing with teen-aged boys.

Oishi felt nostalgic when he saw coach Ryuzaki speaking with a young boy who bowed respectfully at her and then ran to the court to join his friends. Ryuzaki-sensei's frown soon turned into a smile as she gazed at the boys, sighed and shook her head in exasperation.

"Ryuzaki-sensei!" Oishi shouted the greeting when they were close enough to be heard over the chatter.

"Oishi-kun! Inui!" she yelled back, smiling widely. "What are you boys doing here? Checking out the club for your own boys?"

Oishi blushed and Inui coughed in his fist, then dug out his ever present notebook as if he could hide his embarrassment by holding it. "We are not yet old enough to have children that could attend here," Inui told her.

"Bullocks!" Ryuzaki-sensei yelled, grinning widely. "You're old enough, just too useless! You Inui are married to your job, and Oishi probably still worries so much for everyone, that no woman could stand it without violent fits of jealous rage."

Disregarding his two embarrassed former students, she turned to the courts and pointed at the boy she had just spoken to. "That there's Arai's boy." She looked proud. "He's got quite a bit of talent. Reminds me of you two. We haven't gotten a kid that talented in this club for almost three years."

"Are you referring to Echizen-san?" Inui asked after sharing a glance with Oishi.

"How do you know Ryoma?" Ryuzaki-sensei asked. "But yes, that's who I mean. Haven't seen a kid with that much raw talent since his father. Too bad he got injured. The high-school team's pretty good, but without Ryoma I doubt they'll be able to win any tournaments."

"Have you seen him lately?" Inui continued and Ryuzaki-sensei's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Now why are you boys so interested in Ryoma?"

"Work," Oishi said simply.

"The kid's not in any trouble, is he? I heard he's not been himself lately, but I wouldn't think he'd get himself into anything so serious that they'd have to call you two. Don't you investigate murders?"

"Violent crimes," Oishi corrected. "And he's not in trouble, we're just trying to cover everything."

"Ah ha." Ryuzaki crossed her arms, not looking very convinced.

"So have you seen him lately?" Inui repeated the question.

"No, but I have heard of him," she answered, her arms still folded and her forehead creased. "He hooked up with Sakuno, my granddaughter, and then broke it off a few days later. Standard teen stuff, with all the excessive drama. So if he's well enough to break a girl's heart, there can't be that much wrong with him."

"You don't sound very bitter," Inui commented.

Ryuzaki-sensei shrugged. "Might have been a good thing in the long run. Sakuno's had a crush on the kid for years, maybe this'll make her grow."

"How long had they been going out?" Oishi asked and Ryuzaki-sensei frowned, trying to remember the exact dates.

"Let's see… They were on a date on Sunday, and then they were supposed to go to the movies on Tuesday, but he never showed up."

"On Tuesday?" Inui took out his notebook to check what he already knew. Tuesday had been the day they had taken the boy to Kawamura's.

When he saw Oishi's worried look, he knew his partner had realized it as well. The man they had glimpsed briefly that day, speaking with the boy, must have been the reason he had not crossed the street to the movie theatre.

0

0

Oshitari had just let his class go and was heading to the teacher's lounge, when he passed the office and saw two strange men in there, speaking with Amada-san, the principal's receptionist.

"Do you have any records of a student named Fuji?" the taller of the two men asked from Amada-san.

"Just a moment," she said and turned to her computer. "Yes, over six hundred."

"Male students."

"Three hundred and eighty four," she smiled. "I'm afraid you will have to be a little more precise, Inui-san."

"Have any of them attended this school in the past three years?"

"Just a moment," she answered and began clicking at the keyboard again. "Eight of them have been students in the past three years, three of them still are."

"You can exclude those three, but we will need to see the files on the remaining five."

"Certainly Inui-san."

"Excuse me," Oshitari said, stepping inside the office. "What is going on in here? Why are you allowing these men access to the student records Amada-san?"

"Ah, Oshitari-san!" she greeted him with a cheerful smile that brightened up her round and common face. "These men are from the police and they have all the appropriate documents, and I've checked it with the principal, no need to worry."

"Why is the police interested in our students?" Oshitari asked, looking at the two men.

"We are trying to confirm the existence of a certain student," the man Amada-san had referred to as Inui, answered.

"You could help these men, Oshitari-san. I see from the records that you've taught all of the five boys."

"I have?" Oshitari asked, correcting the position of his glasses.

"Yes," she smiled again and brushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Just a second, I'll give you the files and you can go through them with these gentlemen." She reached out to her left and opened a drawer in a filing cabinet, searched through it, picked up a stack of files and handed them to Oshitari. "You can use the guidance counsellor's office. He's on leave this week."

"Thank you Amada-san." Oshitari took the files and nodded to her. He turned to the two men and said, "If you'll follow me?" and led them to the guidance counsellor's office, right behind the two men. Oshitari opened the office door, and waited for the men to step inside before following them and closing it, giving Amada-san one final smile.

He took his time looking around the office. He'd only been there a few times and it had been at least a year since his last visit, yet the office hadn't changed at all in that time. There were still the same posters of different youth projects on the walls, and the same plastic plant on the desk, along with an old, large monitor that took up most of the space on the desk, leaving almost no room for him to set down the files.

Oshitari went behind the desk and gestured for the other men to sit on the chairs across him. "Amada-san did not mention your partner's, name, Inui-san," Oshitari said.

"Oh, yes, I'm Oishi Shuichiro," the shorter of the men introduced himself and bowed.

"Oshitari Yuushi," Oshitari said and returned the bow. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Oishi answered with a smile.

Oshitari sat down and leaned back on the chair, turning it so he could rest his arm on top of the table and tap his fingers against the files. He was aware that the silence now ruling was uncomfortable, but was in no hurry to end it. The two men, Oishi and Inui did not look like they were out to cause trouble for anyone, but even still he wasn't ready to just let the police get their hands on student records – records that he believed should have been confidential.

Inui was the one who broke the silence. "Amada-san assured us that everything is in order. But if you need to see our-"

"No, it's fine," Oshitari stopped the man before he could take out his papers. Despite his personal misgivings, he knew Amada-san would never have given the men any information if she had not been absolutely certain that everything was in order. "But before we go over these," He tapped his fingers against the files again. "I must ask why you need them. You must understand my position. As a teacher I am naturally worried when the police comes asking questions about my students."

Both men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and Oishi looked at his partner questioningly. It answered Oshitari's unasked question about who was the one that made the decisions in this partnership, and was not surprised when it was Inui who spoke.

"You might already know this, but a boy that goes to this school was attacked roughly a week ago. My partner and I are simply trying to find out everything we can about what happened, in order to keep the boy safe."

"Echizen-kun?" Oshitari asked, attentive suddenly. "But why are you asking about other students? If he had been attacked by students of Seigaku he would have recognized them, wouldn't he?"

"We already know who attacked him, and they aren't students here," Oishi hurried to assure him. "We met someone who claims to be a student here, and we are trying to verify his statement."

"How is he connected to Echizen-kun?"

"If you would please just let us look at those-" Inui made a gesture to take the files and Oshitari reached out to pull them closer.

"Anything else you can tell me about him besides the name?" he asked and opened the first folder.

"He is older than Echizen-san," Inui said and leaned back against his seat with a displeased frown. "Blue eyes, light brown hair, slender build. He has a habit of constantly smiling."

"So a happy boy?" Oshitari asked and set the first file down. This Fuji-kun had been a boy who never smiled.

"No, not happy, more like…" Inui paused, trying to search for the right word.

"Mocking," Oishi finished for him. "Like he knows the biggest, funniest joke in the world and is never going to tell you."

"Oh?" Oshitari felt the beginnings of a mocking smile of his own, but managed to suppress it. "Well I can tell you even without looking at the rest, that none of my students match that description."

"Are you certain?" Inui asked.

"Yes," Oshitari answered, but looked through them anyway. "None of them have blue eyes, that I can tell you. It's not very common, after all. How certain are you that he told you his correct name, or that he even is a student here?"

"Not very," Inui admitted. "He could have given us a false name. In fact, it is most likely that he did. And I doubt anything he said was truthful."

"Then I don't see how I could be of any more use to you," Oshitari stood up and picked up the files. "Let me show you out."

Oishi seemed shocked at the suggestion that they needed an escort and was about to protest, but Inui spoke before his partner could. "If you insist," he said dryly, only amused that Oshitari did not trust them to wander around the school by themselves.

0

0

Ryoma squinted, looking up at the sun. It made his eyes water and head hurt, and turned him almost blind for a few moments, and when he closed his eyes he could still see the image of the sun against his lids, a blazing inferno of white and yellow gold.

The bright spot that followed everywhere he looked, and was there even when he closed his eyes, made Ryoma think of Atobe. Even after hours, nearly two days without speaking with him, with no contact other than a distant glimpse of the man, the man's image was still vivid in his mind.

And it wasn't fair. The day should have belonged to him, to the living. It should have been a time Ryoma was free to think of something other than the dead, of his friends and family, school, tennis, Karupin. But nothing that was illuminated by the sun could tear his mind from the creatures that had claimed the night as theirs, and dragged Ryoma into their world.

It was easy to blame them for it all, even if it had been Ryoma who had gone chasing them, and found a world full of temptations. He had only seen a glimpse of it through the eyes of a terrified child, from the view of a victim, but being a part of that world, to wield that much strength, was what he desired now more than anything else.

"Ryoma-kun, you alright?" Kachirou asked, placing his hand on Ryoma's shoulder and shaking him.

"What do you mean?" Ryoma snapped, stepping back, away from Kachirou. "I'm fine."

"You've been standing here with your eyes closed for at least five minutes, and the captain's starting to notice," Kachirou told him, and Ryoma looked at where he'd last seen the captain. He was staring at Ryoma with a frown, and he wasn't the only one. Almost everyone on the team was looking at him.

"Maybe you should go home," Kachirou suggested, worriedly.

"What?" Ryoma snarled, angry. The only normal thing he had left was tennis practice, and now Kachirou wanted him to go home.

"Calm down," Kachirou hissed, looking over his shoulder at the tennis courts. "I'm just saying it might be better if you went home. Everyone can see you're not exactly paying attention, and it's only been a week since you got out of the hospital."

"There's nothing wrong with my concentration," Ryoma argued. "I'm fine."

"After what happened with Sakuno, I-"

"She's got nothing to do with this, just shut up!" Ryoma screamed, not caring anymore that everyone was staring at him.

"You don't have to bite my head off just because she dumped you! You're the one that screwed it up!" Kachirou yelled back and Ryoma snapped. He threw down his racquet and fisted his hand on the front of Kachirou's shirt.

"Echizen!" the captain yelled and walked over to them. "Why don't you take a break and cool off?" he suggested.

Ryoma's mouth twisted and he let go off Kachirou. "I don't need a break," he told the captain and Kachirou snorted. "And fuck you," he growled at Kachirou who stepped back at Ryoma's hostility.

"That's it Echizen, you're out," the captain said.

"What?" Ryoma screamed.

"You're only disturbing practice acting like this. Why the hell the coach even let you come back before you can play I don't know, and I would've been fine with it, I was fine with it, but I won't let you just cause trouble and pick fights because you're frustrated," the captain said and crossed his arms. "Come back next week, or after you've cooled down. I don't want to see you here before you can behave."

Ryoma glared at both of them before turning and going to the locker room. He was more angry with himself than either of them. Kachirou hadn't even said anything that bad and didn't deserve Ryoma snapping at him. And he'd been right, it was Ryoma's fault for screwing it up with Sakuno, and he shouldn't have come to practice when he couldn't play. It only frustrated him to see others doing what he wanted to.

He changed quickly, gathered his things and got out. When he glanced back at the courts he felt a twinge of jealousy seeing his team mates playing, smiling, laughing, sweating and grunting, having fun. There wasn't anything left for him anymore. Normal life was now just as far from his reach as immortality was.

Ryoma turned a corner and stopped when he came face to face with his father. "What are you doing here? I told you, you can't come!" he yelled.

"You think you can tell you're old man what he can do?" Nanjiroh asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Did practice end already? It's a bit early, isn't it?"

Ryoma bit his lip and avoided looking at his father.

"You skipping practice now?"

"No!" Ryoma yelled. "I- They-" he huffed and clenched his jaw.

"You got thrown out?" Nanjiroh asked. "Kid, you-" Nanjiroh took in a deep breath and pressed his palm against his forehead. "Let's just go home, okay. Maybe we can have at least one day without any drama." Nanjiroh turned and Ryoma followed him, dragging his feet.

"Echizen-san, what a surprise to see you here," Oshitari, who had just stepped out of the school building, greeted them.

"Ah, Oshitari-san, right?" Nanjiroh asked. "I just came by to pick the brat from school, and-" he stopped talking when two other people stepped through the door Oshitari had just stepped out of. "Haven't the two you of you caused enough trouble for my family?" he asked, frowning at Inui and Oishi.

Oshitari looked back at the two police men, surprised by Nanjiroh's hostile reaction.

"Please Echizen-san, we are only trying to help," Oishi pleaded.

"He's already told you everything. There's no need for you to come poking around his school," Nanjiroh said. "I want both of you to stay clear of my son and my family."

"We can't do that Echizen-san, your son could still be in danger," Inui said. "The man he was with last night-"

"Doesn't matter anymore because we are leaving this country," Nanjiroh told them.

"You can't do that!" Ryoma screamed. "You said we'd talk about it!"

"We did," Nanjiroh turned back to his son. "Your mother and I decided it's for the best. You're not concentrating on school or tennis. We can't wait for you to step up, so we're putting you someplace where there won't be any distractions and you can concentrate on what's important."

"Perhaps we should discuss this, Echizen-san, taking your son away at this state of the school year might not be the best possible solution," Oshitari said. "I could speak with all of you, and we could look at other options."

"There is nothing to talk about," Nanjiroh told Oshitari. "We have been thinking about this for the past three years, and after everything that has happened, Rinko and I have agreed that the best thing for Ryoma is to attend a private boarding school."

"You haven't even asked me what I want!" Ryoma yelled.

"You lost the privilege of getting to choose when you stopped thinking with your head!" Nanjiroh yelled back. "No son of mine is going to throw away his future because he can only think with his dick! And just when I thought things were starting go so well, you had Ryuzaki, and then you! You!" Nanjiroh repeated the final word in a scream. "You go and get fucking mixed up with some boy!" he screamed with so much disgust Ryoma took a step back as if he'd been hit.

To Ryoma his father's hostile reaction was a shock. Despite all their fighting he had always thought that his father would accept him for who he was, and would always support his choices. That he seemed to be on a verge of a seizure because he thought Ryoma was gay, talked about it like it was something wrong, almost criminal, made him sick to his stomach.

"You're one to talk, you fucking pervert!" Ryoma screamed, the anger boiling inside him, wanting to get away. He didn't know why he wasn't denying it, because it wasn't exactly true, was it? "You never use your brain!" And if it was, if he was gay, his father had no right to talk about it like that. "And I'm not leaving anywhere!" He screamed and started running away from his dad, from everyone.

"Ryoma, get back here!" Nanjiroh yelled after him, but Ryoma just kept running. When he heard footsteps behind him, without turning around he threw his tennis and schoolbags at them, and wanted to laugh when he heard swearing and the sound of someone falling on the ground. He hoped his dad had cracked his skull.

0

0

Yagyuu nodded to the uniformed officer as he walked past him, and lifted his hand up at a greeting to Tachibana, another detective already on the crime scene. They'd worked together before, most recently on a serial killer that had been prowling Tokyo's streets for young women he could cut open. The fact that they'd successfully gotten the man convicted was probably why they'd both been assigned to this case. Yagyuu had been told it was a double murder, but not a conventional one.

"Tachibana-san," Yagyuu said. "What do we have?"

"See for yourself," Tachibana answered and gestured to the bodies that were on a heap on the ground. "The one wearing a T-shirt and jeans is a torture victim that's probably been held captive for at least a month. No ID, European, and probably a foreigner. The other victim on the other hand doesn't seem to have any other wounds besides the fatal one. We already know he's a janitor of a building not too far from here."

"Maybe he saw the other murder and was killed because of that?" Yagyuu suggested.

"That's possible," Tachibana agreed. "But what's strange is the murder weapon. Not something you'd expect a cold blooded killer to use."

"What is it, then?"

"A silver pen with an engraving on it," Tachibana answered. "We can't read all of it, because the pen is pretty deep inside the neck, but it start's with '_To my son_', and it probably ends with the name. We'll know who's the idiot after the coroner removes it."

"A silver pen with an engraving?" Yagyuu asked, feeling a little faint. He brought his hand up to his breast pocket, to feel the comforting bulge of his own silver pen that his mother had bought him under his coat. His heart began to beat louder when he did not feel it. "How odd."

"I remember you have one. A gift from your mother for getting a promotion, wasn't it?" Tachibana asked, smiling.

"Yes, it is very important to me," Yagyuu said, slowly lowering his hand, fear slithering down his spine like cold water. He looked back at the bodies, hoping there was some other explanation. But now that he looked, and remembered, the bodies looked familiar.

The betrayal stung bitterly, and left a foul taste in his mouth. He had felt so good, so light after last night, that he had shown Niou the extent of his trust in the man, made himself so vulnerable. It had been a rush he wished there would not have been such a devastating end for.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** No Beta, so the probability of typos and mistakes higher than in the previous chapters. Sorry about that.

Comments and criticism always welcomed.

* * *

It took Ryoma almost an hour to realize he was being an idiot. If he'd just gone home and talked to his parents, there might have been a chance that he would have been able to convince them that the best thing for him wasn't moving out of the country. But now that he'd run away again, they'd never believe him, even if he swore to never do it again.

Ryoma sighed and dug his hands in his pockets, wondering if he had any money. He wasn't very surprised to find nothing in his pockets. He didn't even have his phone. After Kirihara had destroyed it, he hadn't bothered with a new one.

Ryoma looked up when a rain drop fell on his nose. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky and blocked the sun he'd been staring at only an hour ago. It started pouring, and Ryoma ran towards the closest shelter, a doorway of an apartment building. He leaned against the wall, shivering from the cold. He was only wearing his uniform, and didn't even have a coat or a scarf.

Someone stepped into the doorway next to him, but when they didn't just pass him by and go inside, Ryoma looked up to see a familiar face and concerned eyes behind round glasses. "Echizen," Oshitari almost whispered his name. "You… Did you know I live here?"

Ryoma blinked, his eyes darting to the street behind Oshitari. It was still raining hard, and Oshitari was even more drenched than Ryoma. "No, you live here?" Ryoma asked, folding his arms.

Oshitari's smile was thin and his chuckle almost sad. "Yes," he answered, taking a key ring from his pocket. "Would you like to come inside? We can call your parents, and-" Oshitari's hand was on his shoulder before Ryoma could do no more than lift his foot. "Don't leave," Oshitari said, and glanced over his shoulder at the rain. "We don't have to call anyone, but you can't go back out there. You'll get sick."

Ryoma stared up at Oshitari, trying to understand what the man wanted from him. But he couldn't figure anything from Oshitari's face, and he was freezing. "Fine," he finally said, and was taken back by the sudden smile Oshitari flashed him.

"Good." Oshitari smiled and unlocked the door. "I'll make us some tea and you can use the shower. And then we can talk. Alright?" he asked, keeping the door open for Ryoma who was still hesitant. But the rain wasn't showing any signs of stopping, and he was cold. Tea and a warm shower sounded almost too good to be true.

"Yeah," Ryoma muttered and stepped inside.

"You can go on ahead, I still have a few things I have to get from the car. It's the third floor, apartment thirteen," Oshitari said and gave Ryoma his keys. The boy took them and blinked at Oshitari. He didn't get the man. No one in their right mind would offer their keys to someone they hardly knew.

"There are clean towels in the bathroom, and an extra robe in the bedroom closet. Use the green one, the blue's mine," Oshitari waved one more time before he turned and opened the door.

"Why are you doing this?" Ryoma asked before Oshitari could step back in to the rain. "No one does anything without a reason."

Oshitari turned back, his hand still keeping the door open. He looked at Ryoma for a long time without speaking. He opened his mouth once, then closed it and finally smiled his irritating, slow smile. "It's more like I don't have any reason to not help you, Echizen-kun."

Ryoma almost wished Oshitari wouldn't have his glasses, so Ryoma could see his eyes without the light reflecting of their surface. But he still remembered how uncomfortable he'd been under Oshitari's naked gaze, and was grateful for the barrier between them, no matter how artificial it was. "You're lying," Ryoma said, gripping the keys tighter.

"What reason would I have to lie to you?" Oshitari's voice was compassionate and his smile more reassuring. It all seemed so fake to Ryoma. Like Oshitari was trying to play a part in a play, but his own personality was too strong to be hidden behind another, fake one.

"I don't know why, but you are," Ryoma said.

Oshitari's smile faltered, but didn't disappear. He sighed and pulled his glasses of, placing them in his pocket. "You don't have to trust me, or even know my motivations," Oshitari said. "Just accept that I will not do anything that might harm you. Now go up, I'll be there soon."

For the first time since Ryoma had known him, Oshitari actually sounded like a responsible adult, and Ryoma found himself acting on it. He shrugged and got on the elevator.

0

0

Oishi ran inside the station, hoping he'd have thought to bring an umbrella with him, like Inui. But he always closed the TV before the forecast, thinking that if there really was something he needed to know about the weather, Inui would tell him. But apparently Inui didn't think a rain storm was something worth mentioning.

"You could've at least shared it with me," Oishi grumbled, took off his coat and tried to shake the excess water off it. "Inui? Are you listening?" Oishi asked and looked at his partner.

"There wasn't anything on the radio about a bomb threat or a hostage situation, was there?" Inui asked, looking at the station house that looked like it'd been thrown into chaos. Everyone was either running, or yelling at someone on the phone. Those that weren't in the midst of a panic, just sat by their desks and stared at the empty air.

"No," Oishi answered and stepped inside their department. "Maybe it's something so big no one wanted to risk rumours of it spreading outside."

"There's Akutsu, come on," Inui said, pointing at the man that did not seem distressed or troubled. "He looks far too content to not know anything."

Oishi thought that calling Akutsu content was an understatement. Akutsu was beaming like it was Christmas morning and he'd just gotten a bazooka. It worried Oishi sometimes that a man so violent and short-tempered was working as a police officer.

"Akutsu," Inui greeted the man when they reached him. "What is going on here?"

"Justice," Akutsu answered, grinning and laughed with his head thrown back.

"That doesn't really tell me anything," Inui replied, sounding almost bored and unfazed by the sheer maliciousness in Akutsu's laughter.

"Yagyuu got caught with his hand in the cookie jar," Akutsu snickered, leaving them both even more puzzled. "They found his pen in a murder victim's neck, and his DNA is all over both bodies."

"Both?" Inui asked.

"Yagyuu?" Oishi gasped. "That can't be true."

Akutsu snorted. "Believe it. I also found the man you were looking for, Inui. His name's Atobe Keigo and he's been paying Yagyuu to keep him informed on your doings."

"What man, Inui?" Oishi asked.

"Anything else?"

"I found the hotel he's staying at and found out that he's staying there with a man called Fuji Syusuke."

"Inui!" Oishi yelled, causing both men, and some of the others in the room to turn and stare at him. "What is he talking about, what man, and what does he know about Fuji-san?"

Akutsu chuckled and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "Troubles with the missis, Inui?"

"I meant to tell you earlier, Oishi," Inui said, coughing and trying not to look or sound very defensive. "Yesterday, I saw the man we saw with Echizen in front of the movie theatre. He was following us, and I asked Akutsu to search for him."

"And you didn't think it was something I should know?" Oishi fumed.

"You were troubled, and I did not want to worry you," Inui almost muttered.

"I'm a grown man, Inui, you can't treat me like a child. I can take care of myself," Oishi said, sounding frustrated. "I don't want to work with anyone else, but I can't work with you if you start treating me like someone you have to take care of."

"I am sorry, Oishi, I did not think… I will try not to," Inui finally promised.

"Great," Akutsu grunted, padding his pockets in a fervent search for a lighter. "Family therapy over now? Crisis averted and the happy couple is reunited again?"

"Inui, Oishi, good you're here," Tachibana said, coming over to them. "I need you to come with me."

"To where?" Inui asked.

"If you're going to arrest Yagyuu, I'm coming too," Akutsu said, glaring at his lighter that only sparked, giving him no flame. "Anyone got matches?" he yelled.

Tachibana frowned at Akutsu. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, considering your history with him."

"What fucking history? I'm the only one who's known from the start that he's rotten, and I deserve to be there," Akutsu said, the cigarette still dangling from his mouth. "I need a fucking light," he muttered, and dropped the malfunctioning lighter on his desk.

"We're not going to arrest him, yet. We just want to talk to him." Tachibana glanced at the desk next to Akutsu's and frowned at the scattered papers on it. They'd gone over them all, but Yagyuu had been careful not to leave anything incriminating. As it was they didn't have much evidence, just a few odd coincidences on the cases Yagyuu had worked in.

"Is there really no chance that it's a mistake? Or that he was framed?" Oishi asked. "If the pen is really all there is, then maybe…" he stopped, still hopeful despite the way Tachibana shook his head sadly.

"You remember the robbery we worked on about a month back?" he asked. "The jewellery store robbery where two security guards were killed?"

"Of course I do," Oishi answered. He could never forget the grieving family members, or the co-workers shock that someone they talked to every day had been killed right in front of their eyes. "We would've had the culprits too, if …" Oishi swallowed. "If someone hadn't torched the van when we went to arrest them."

"You're not saying Yagyuu did it?" Inui asked.

"If you remember it's not the only thing that went wrong with that case," Tachibana said. "The forensic evidence got tampered with, and there was that one report about the bullets. Yagyuu could have easily replaced them, he had access."

"That doesn't prove anything," Inui said. "Anyone could have done that, even someone working at the morgue."

"No, but it does raise questions," Tachibana answered and looked at his watch. "They should be done with the bodies by now. I'll call and ask if they've found anything else. After that we're leaving to Yagyuu's."

0

0

Ryoma jiggled the keys, trying to find the right one that would fit the lock on the apartment door. He figured it was probably the same one Oshitari had used to open the building door, but he hadn't been paying attention then, and there were at least three keys in the key ring that could have gone into the lock.

A door behind him opened and Ryoma turned to see a man around Oshitari's age with hair dyed red, almost pink, step in to the hallway and say, "Yuushi, why are you back so late, I thought we were going to the-" Ryoma never found out what the man was going to do with this Yuushi person, because when he saw Ryoma, the man screamed. "Who the hell are you and why are you standing in front of Yuushi's apartment!" Then he noticed the keys in Ryoma's hand and his eyes widened. "Why do you have Yuushi's keys?! Did you rob him?!"

Ryoma concluded that Oshitari was Yuushi. And now his friend thought he'd robbed him, and was going to call the police and they'd call his parents, and he'd be sent to the States. "I didn't rob him, he gave them to me!" Ryoma yelled, almost panicking.

"Yuushi wouldn't give his keys to a stranger!" the man yelled and then gasped, pressing his hands on his chest, eyes round, mouth open. "He's cheating on me! The bastard is cheating on me with a child prostitute!"

"What? Fuck you man!" Ryoma screamed back, ears burning. He turned back to the keys and stuck the first one into the lock. It didn't fit. "Shit."

"Just tell me how long it's been going on," the man stepped next to him, and Ryoma, with his face still burning turned to look at him. "I have a right to know!"

Ryoma stared at the red head, trying to figure out if this was a joke. Maybe the redhead thought this was funny, and he did it to everyone he met for the first time. And maybe someone had actually thought it was funny at some point and told him so, so he never stopped even when people gave him weird looks, or tried to have him committed.

Fortunately Ryoma didn't have to say anything, because the elevator doors opened and Oshitari stepped out, his arms filled with groceries in wet paperbacks. "Yuushi!" the redhead yelled and Oshitari looked up, his eyes widening behind the glasses he'd placed back on his nose. "Who is he? And why does he have your keys?"

"Gakuto? Why are you…?" Oshitari shook his head, recovered from the shock and flashed the man a smile. "I thought you were going without me. Didn't we agree to meet there?"

"We didn't agree anything," the man called Gakuto said, crossing his arms. "You just left a message for me at work to tell me that you'd be late and to go without you."

"And you chose to ignore it," Oshitari muttered from behind his bags.

"Of course I did!" Gakuto shouted, and Ryoma wondered why no one had appeared in the hallway to see what was going on. But maybe they were used to the screaming. "And I'm glad I did! If I'd gone, I never would've found out that you're cheating one me!" he screamed, face almost as red as his hair, pointing at Ryoma.

"Gakuto, he's one of my students," Oshitari said in a calm voice.

"Your student!" Gakuto screamed and then whispered, "How could you?" clutching the front of his shirt in a desperate grip.

"I didn't!" Oshitari shouted, shoved the groceries to Ryoma and took back his keys. "Take these inside, would you Echizen-kun? Use the shower if you want."

"The shower!" Gakuto screamed while Oshitari opened the door to Ryoma and almost shoved him inside.

"Gakkun, honey," Ryoma heard Oshitari say before the door was closed behind him and he was left in a dim hallway, hands full of soggy paper bags that smelled of fish.

0

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Yagyuu had come home as soon as he could, after the bodies had been taken and the crime scene processed. He'd stared after the car that had taken the bodies, knowing that once it reached the morgue, and the coroner took out the pen, it would be the end for him. He could try to fight it, claim that he'd been framed, but it would be futile to think he could get past this somehow. With the pen, and other possible evidence from the bodies, they'd have a reason to look deeper into his doings, and they would find more reasons to be suspicious.

The apartment he called home was bare. The only furniture in the living room was a small table and a two-seater couch. He didn't even own a television. He had a laptop he kept on his desk in his bedroom that was mostly occupied by a large king-sized bed. The only indulgences he'd allowed himself to have.

He'd been so careful to not let anything in his apartment, or on his person to show how much money he really had. But that didn't matter now, and probably never would have. He'd never invited anyone to his apartment, because he'd been scared of them finding something he'd overlooked.

His phone, that he'd set down on the living room table, rang, and Yagyuu looked at the name. One of his colleagues, calling to warn him, wanting to know if it was true he had something to do with the murders, maybe even hoping he'd been framed.

He could so easily imagine it in his mind, how it would go. It would start with disbelief.

No one wanted to believe the man they'd worked with for years, who they'd trusted could be a criminal. But then the facts would come out, the hard evidence, the pen, maybe something more, a strand of his hair on the bodies, and slowly they would start to accept. Then they would remember little things that had seemed like nothing at the time, but now told them of his guilt. And then someone would mutter they'd always known there was something fishy about Yagyuu, that they'd never really trusted him.

But when they'd come, they wouldn't come to arrest him. No, they would want to talk first. One final attempt to deny the truth. They wanted him to say he hadn't done it, that he'd been framed. Even with overwhelming evidence they would still hold on to the small hope that no cop they'd trusted could betray his fellow officers just for money.

"Anyone else but you would have already left town," Niou's voice came from behind him, and Yagyuu turned to look at the man that had destroyed him. "This is where they'll look first."

He didn't bother with questions or accusations, there wasn't anything Niou could say that would make it alright. Yagyuu pulled out his gun and shot Niou right between the eyes. If he was going down for murder, he might as well commit one.

Niou's body fell down, almost gracefully. There was less blood than Yagyuu had expected. It was almost disappointing, that Niou's death was so… clean, and over so quickly.

"I deserved that, but it still hurts like hell."

Yagyuu's hand that still held the gun, pointed at where Niou's body had lain only a second ago, twitched. He turned around and shot in the direction he'd heard the voice. The bullets hit Niou in the chest and stomach, and he hunched over and staggered back by the force of the impact, but did not fall.

Forcing the fear, caused by the impossible happening before his very eyes, to the back of his mind, Yagyuu stepped closer, pressed the gun against Niou's forehead, and stared at the man who should have been dead.

Niou's grin was crooked, like most of the time, arrogant, but twisted with pain. "Can we talk before you bury another bullet in me? It won't kill me."

"Then what will?" Yagyuu asked and fisted his hand on Niou's collar and pushed the man back against his couch, pressing Niou against the backrest. He wanted to shoot Niou again, turn his face unrecognizable with bullets. Maybe then he would stay down.

"Now why would I tell you that, when you're trying to kill me?" Niou asked, that same arrogant grin on his face.

"So I can't kill you," Yagyuu said, breathing hard like he'd ran a marathon, not even trying to control the panic that made his heart race. He took the gun from Niou's forehead, pressed its barrel against the white haired man's stomach and pulled the trigger. He smiled for the first time when Niou's smirk was wiped out by a mask of agony as the bullet ripped through his gut. "But it seems I can cause pain."

"You're gonna run out of bullets eventually," Niou hissed between his clenched teeth, and opened his eyes that had now taken the colour of Yagyuu's grey couch. "Let me explain."

"What is there to explain?" Yagyuu asked, trying to take control of his shaky voice. "I do not need to know your reasons. You were probably paid to do it, and you've already been watching me for years. By whom? I couldn't really care. And it doesn't even matter, because I'll be dead before the night ends." Yagyuu pulled back and looked down at Niou's chest. The white shirt was covered in blood but Niou didn't seem to be in pain anymore. Yagyuu pulled the shirt up and found blood, lots of it, covering smooth skin with out even a single scar. "And that begs the question, why you're not? What are you?"

"I'm a vampire," Niou answered, grinning more widely so Yagyuu could see the sharp fangs in his mouth. "It's hard to kill something that's already dead."

When Yagyuu didn't react, Niou frowned and leaned up. "You're not surprised?" he asked, confused and his grin dropped. He looked almost disappointed.

And perhaps he was. Yagyuu didn't think Niou had many opportunities to reveal something like that about himself. "Of course I am," Yagyuu said and pushed himself up, away from Niou and off the couch.

He should be horrified, Yagyuu knew, but the shock still hadn't passed, and his mind acted like it was on auto drive. It was asking questions, and his mouth voiced them. "But I'm more curious, than surprised. If you really are a vampire, then why are you doing this to me? Why do you care about money?"

"It isn't about money," Niou answered. "This isn't even about you."

"Atobe then?" Yagyuu guessed. "Someone wants me to rat on him?" he laughed. "That is never going to happen. He's going to get me killed before I have the chance. And even if he doesn't, he's not the only one I've done favours for. Once they hear I've been caught, it'll be a race to get me killed. I won't live through the night."

"That was their plan," Niou said.

"Whose?"

Niou shook his head. "You don't want to know, trust me."

Yagyuu laughed. "I did!" he yelled, waving his hands, still holding the gun. "It's because I trusted you I'm in this mess! So you are going to tell me why!"

"I can't!" Niou yelled back. "At least, not everything," he amended and looked away.

Yagyuu took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Right now he wanted nothing more than for Niou to go and leave him alone.

"I didn't want to do it," Niou was closer again. One more step and they would be pressed together. Even now he could smell the blood and gunpowder that covered Niou, almost taste it in his mouth. "But I didn't have a choice. He would've found someone else, and I wouldn't be able to help you."

"Help me?" Yagyuu asked, not able to stop the desperate laugh that followed. "You think you can help me?"

"It's very simple," Niou answered, tilting his head back, so Yagyuu's gaze was drawn to the sharp fangs that his arrogant grin exposed. "Didn't I already tell you that it's hard to kill something that's already dead?"

Yagyuu staggered back, his finger trembling on the trigger. He knew he wouldn't be fast enough, that the bullets wouldn't kill Niou, but when the other man stepped closer he still fired his gun.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Comments and critique very much appreciated, the latter even more now that I don't have a beta.

* * *

The car that drove in front of Yagyuu's building wasn't what you'd expect to see when you thought of a police car. It wasn't the kind of car you imagined when you thought of a car. In fact, as far as Akutsu was concerned, it wasn't a car, it was a joke.

"My car's broken. I had no choice but to borrow my wife's car," Tachibana told Akutsu for the tenth time.

"How the hell is it even possible for someone to own a cherry red Beetle?" Akutsu grumbled from the back where he was sitting with Inui. Both men had their knees bent and their necks bent, cheeks pressed against the roof. Had the traffic police happened to stop them, they'd all been thrown to jail.

"She likes it," Tachibana replied, a little annoyed now. "We could have taken your car."

"No we couldn't have, 'cause the health freak sitting in the front seat can't handle a little passive smoking!" Akutsu glared at the back of Oishi's head, and was pleased to note it was starting to go red. Though whether it was from embarrassment or anger, he had no idea.

"Actually it's a proven fact that second hand smoking-"

"I know the sermon, save it preacher!" Akutsu turned his head to glare at Inui.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about smoking inside the station, Akutsu," Tachibana interfered.

"I'm not quitting just because you don't want to have cancer!" Akutsu yelled.

"It wouldn't hurt you to think about others every now and then, Akutsu," Oishi informed him.

"Why are we still sitting in the car?" Inui asked, and his question was followed by a lot of grunting and groaning, as they all struggled to get out of the small, and not very inconspicuous car. But once they were out, Akutsu noticed that he'd lost his keys somewhere in the backseat and forced himself back inside the car, and once he found his keys, he discovered he'd lost his wallet while searching for his keys. When he lost his phone while searching for his wallet, he was banned from the car and Oishi was sent after it. He came back with two phones and a black lace bra hanging from his ear.

"That car's like some fucked up Bermuda's triangle," Akutsu remarked with a slightly impressed voice, observing the bra he'd snatched from Oishi, trying to imagine the woman they fitted.

Beet red, Tachibana snatched the bra from Akutsu's hand and threw it inside the car along with the extra phone, and slammed the door closed.

"You left the keys inside, Tachibana," Inui told him.

Fortunately for everyone Tachibana's phone rang right then and he walked to the other side of the car to answer it. When he ended the call his face had gone serious. "Someone's called the station to say that shots have been fired in Yagyuu's apartment," he told them, the news making them all serious. "There's a possibility someone's attacked him."

"Then we'll book him for murder, right there," Akutsu said and snorted when he saw their shocked expressions. "You've read his file. You really think he's gonna let some punk shoot him? In his home?"

"That's his car," Oishi pointed out. "Shouldn't we wait for backup before we go up, so someone can watch the car?"

"We can't waist any time," Tachibana said. "He could be planning his escape now, if he hasn't left already. Or his murderer is. There are four of us, not everyone needs to go up. You stay with the car, Oishi."

Oishi blinked, and knew he shouldn't be so surprised to be the one that was left behind. He'd seen his fair share of action, and could stand his own, but the other three were more competent when it came to gun fights. Oishi was more of a negotiator, and a good one, but Yagyuu wouldn't be affected by anything Oishi said.

"Juts be careful," Oishi told them. "And… Try to get him alive."

"No fucking way am I going to let that bastard die and get off that easily," Akutsu grunted and headed for the building.

"I suppose that's reassuring," Oishi sighed and smiled at Inui, who responded with his own smile and patted Oishi's shoulder before following Akutsu.

"Keep the radio open," Tachibana said. "We'll keep you informed if anything unexpected happens."

"Alright," Oishi nodded and waved his radio at Tachibana before heading towards Yagyuu's car that was parked a few spaces away from the entrance.

Tachibana reached the door and his eyebrows rose when he saw Akutsu keeping it open. "It was not locked?" he asked and glanced at Inui who shrugged and placed something in his pocket. The movement was swift, but not swift enough for Tachibana to miss it.

"It's fucking open, who cares," Akutsu pointed out and Tachibana struggled to not let his amusement show. Out of these two he wouldn't have picked Inui to be the one that was skilled in picking locks. Even stranger was the loyalty Akutsu was showing Inui by not even hinting that something against the law had transpired.

Shrugging, Tachibana passed the two and headed for the elevator. He waited for both men to step inside and asked, "What floor?"

"Eleven!" Two different voices answered, and this time Tachibana couldn't suppress the chuckle.

"I wonder if Yagyuu knows just how popular he is," Tachibana commented as the elevator doors closed. He pressed the button of the eleventh floor and as soon as the elevator began moving, a cheery melody with a woman singing about flower petals began to play. "That's…" Tachibana frowned, looked up and shrugged. "Rather odd."

The elevator doors opened at the eleventh floor, and the music stopped. They all stepped out, hands hovering over their guns. A door opened on their right and Tachibana turned to see Yagyuu outside his door with a suitcase in his hand. They all stood there, frozen, but then Yagyuu dropped his suitcase and moved his hand to his waist.

By the time Yagyuu had pulled his gun out, there were three guns pointing at him.

"We only wish to talk, Yagyuu, this doesn't need to get ugly!" Tachibana yelled, trying to ascertain if Yagyuu would shoot without provocation. "Put the gun down! You have nowhere to go!"

A small smile that had no mirth in it stretched out on Yagyuu's lips, and his gun moved a friction to the right where Akutsu stood. Before any of them had time to react Yagyuu pulled the trigger and Tachibana heard Akutsu yell. Two gunshots followed the first one when Tachibana and Inui returned fire, but only one of the bullets hit.

Yagyuu's right leg gave out under him and he fell on his knee with a grunt, the gun still pointed at them. His hand shook when he pointed the weapon at them, and Tachibana's eyes widened when he realised Yagyuu was aiming at Akutsu, who was almost helpless, on his knees on the corridor floor, holding his bleeding shoulder.

"Get him on the elevator, Inui!" Tachibana yelled and shot at Yagyuu who hid behind his open door. The bullet hit the door and splinters of wood were thrown around the corridor. He did not wait to see if Yagyuu had been hit again, but retreated to the elevator and only dared to look at his companions when he was inside.

Inui was kneeling beside Akutsu, whose face was distorted into a grimace of pain. His left hand was holding on to his right shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding.

"The bullet went through," Inui said, glancing up at him.

"The fucking bastard tried to kill me!" Akutsu yelled, and then gasped for breath.

"I'm going after him," Tachibana said and glanced quickly to the corridor. The door to Yagyuu's apartment was still open. "I think he went back to his apartment. Once I'm in, send Akutsu down with the elevator and follow me."

"Don't fucking treat me like a useless-" Akutsu tried to stand up, but grimaced and collapsed back on the elevator floor.

"You are useless," Tachibana said and received a heated glare from Akutsu. "Contact Oishi on the radio and get him to call an ambulance."

"You think there's still a chance you can reason with him?" Inui asked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and placing it carefully above the wound on Akutsu's shoulder. "Keep this on it."

"Fucking good it'll do," Akutsu muttered, but still followed Inui's instructions.

"I doubt it," Tachibana said and looked down at Akutsu who was clenching his jaw, trying to control the bleeding and not show his pain. "That last shot wasn't a warning. He tried to kill Akutsu. He's desperate and will try to shoot his way out."

"Perhaps it would be wise to wait for backup," Inui suggested.

Tachibana knew Inui was right, and they should wait. But there were two of them here, and even though Yagyuu was dangerous, it seemed ridiculous to wait for more people, when he and Inui were just as capable as anyone else. "We're not waiting," he finally said, and stepped in to the corridor, hoping, praying Yagyuu wasn't behind a corner, waiting patiently for someone to step in sight so he could kill them.

But no one fired.

"Inui," Tachibana only spoke the man's name before advancing. When he reached Yagyuu's door he heard the metal doors of the elevator slide close and wondered how well Akutsu's nerves would take the cheery melody of the elevator music.

He got his answer when the fire alarm started ringing and the sprinklers went off. "Goddamnit, Akutsu!" Tachibana muttered, silently vowing to tape Akutsu's mouth shut with nicotine patches the first chance he got. Smoking was a filthy habit, anyway.

Someone opened a door and an elderly man stepped out of his apartment. The sound of gunfire had not alerted him, but the fire alarm was a different kind of threat, one that you could not hide from in your home. The bad guys might not come after you if you kept quiet, but fire didn't care if you stayed out of the way.

"It's alright, we are the police! Get back in, there's no fire!" Tachibana yelled at the man, blinking water from his eyes.

The old man blinked at him, and might have done as he was told, if more people hadn't started to appear in the hallway. An elderly woman, probably the older man's wife, appeared behind him and yelled, "I will not stay here to be shot, and I have no desire to burn alive! Get Hana-chan, husband!"

The old man nodded at the woman and headed back to their apartment and soon returned with a small dog in his arms.

"Tachibana," Inui began, but Tachibana silenced him.

"We can't do anything now," he said, knowing the panic would soon spread, and people would fill the corridor. "We just have to keep Yagyuu inside, and hope he doesn't think of shooting in the crowd."

"You think he would do that?" Inui asked.

"I don't know anymore," Tachibana answered, remembering the callous way Yagyuu had taken aim at Akutsu. "Follow me," he told Inui again and headed towards the open door that led to Yagyuu's apartment.

He hesitated with his arm stretched out at the half open door, not willing to step in the line of fire if Yagyuu was just behind it. But people were coming closer, and would soon be in a place where Yagyuu could shoot at them, innocent civilians. Tachibana knew he would never forgive himself if they took a bullet that was meant for him.

Pushing fear aside, Tachibana kicked at the door and rushed inside the apartment. And it was like another world behind the doorway. The shouts and sounds filling the hallway could still be heard here, but it was as if they belonged to a different plane, and could not affect anything in the dark apartment where nothing moved.

No, something moved, on his right and Tachibana turned, his gun going before him. Cold sweat trickled down his spine when he saw a man standing before an open window, a gun held steadily in his hand, its barrel pointed at him.

Tachibana heard Inui beside him and would have lifted his other hand to tell him to not move, if both his hands had not been around the gun he held, his finger on the trigger twitching. Self preservation told him to shoot, ask questions later. But he could not just kill Yagyuu, the man he had worked alongside for years, trusted to stand behind his back with a gun, laughed with, invited to his home.

"Yagyuu," he heard the anger and hurt in his voice, knew he shouldn't have let them come out. Oishi could have done it, spoken to this man in a tone that held no accusation, he could not. "Come quietly. I do not wish to hurt you," he said, and even though Yagyuu had betrayed them all, he still meant it. He did want Yagyuu to come quietly. If he could just talk to the man, then maybe this betrayal would make sense, maybe there was some other reason behind it than money, maybe they'd blackmailed him, maybe…

The gun in Yagyuu's hand moved, and even though the light was scarce – only the street lights from outside, and the lamps on the corridor behind Tachibana's back – he could still see the twitch of Yagyuu's lips, the sinister glimmer in his eyes, and he knew, knew that Yagyuu would shoot him, shoot Inui, would kill everyone in his way unless Tachibana stopped him.

He didn't yell another warning, just pulled the trigger, watched the bullet hit Yagyuu in the chest, watched in silent horror as the man he had just shot staggered back, opened his mouth to scream, reach out with his hands, desperately seeking for some support. The curtain he caught in a desperate grip ripped, and when Yagyuu fell through the open window it wrapped around him like a burial shroud, and he fell to his death with out a sound, the fabric over his mouth and face, around his limbs, keeping them bound tightly, close to his body.

The silence ended in a scream that made Tachibana move, finally, to put his gun back in its holster and run to the open window. He looked down, where a lump of pale canvas with dark stains lay in a pile. Limbs stuck out of it, the head, thankfully, was hidden inside the curtain, but an arm, and the legs stuck out, twisted in angles that were not natural.

"He…" Tachibana whispered, not knowing what he was meant to say.

"You had no choice," Inui spoke for him. "He was going to shoot."

Tachibana nodded, and kept watching down, where there had already began to form a crowd around the body, but he heard Oishi's voice yell, and soon there were uniforms around the body, pushing back the curious onlookers, and the distant sound of an ambulance siren.

"We need to get down there." Tachibana moved away from the window, turned his back on it and hoped that by the time he got down it would be gone, and he would not need to see that, that - that thing, and know that it had once been his colleague, his friend. A man he had killed.

The corridor was empty when they stepped out of the apartment, but the elevator was busy, and with the fire alarm still ringing, and the sprinklers on, they knew it would be busy until everyone in the building had gotten out, so they took the stairs. But even the stairs were packed with panicked people, some carrying trunks, others their pets, and even someone with their television set with them. Children that clung either to their parents or siblings, others who held on tightly to stuffed animals, and a few who stared wide eyed, but calmly at all the people trying to get out, pushing each other out of the way. It was a miracle no one got trampled on, that there was no panic. But the absence of smoke and fire seemed to both confuse and calm people.

On the last floor the press of people around them finally eased, and Tachibana elbowed his way through the crowd to where he heard Oishi's voice shout orders. He pushed past the last person standing between him and the open space where at the centre of lay a body, still with the curtain wrapped around it, a pool of dark blood around it. He watched a man in a paramedic uniform kneel beside the body and carefully lift the edge of the fabric.

"Smashed up," the paramedic said, and let the fabric fall down. "It's a big fucking mess of brain matter and bone, but it's mostly contained by the curtain."

The uniformed officer Tachibana stood next to covered his mouth with his hand, and looked away at the paramedic's words.

"Got any problem with us hauling him out of here?" the same paramedic that had kneeled down asked, chewing on a gum. The ease in which the man was handling this felt wrong and inappropriate to Tachibana, but he forced the feeling to the back of his mind. The man had probably seen worse, and you could get used to the most terrifying things. A smashed up body was not the worst Tachibana had seen, after all.

"It should be fine," Oishi spoke up when Tachibana simply stared down at the pool of blood on the still wet asphalt.

Inui had taken out his notebook and had begun scribbling down details on it. Tachibana heard him mutter, "Apple flavoured." when the paramedics brought out the stretcher.

"When I touched wrist, to check…" Oishi swallowed. "To check the pulse…" he shook his head, realising perhaps only now how ridiculous that action had been. "He was already ice cold. Like he'd been dead for hours."

Tachibana glanced after the ambulance, and then noticed the other one still parked before the building. "How's Akutsu?" he asked Oishi.

"Fine, now that he's finally gotten a cigarette," Oishi remarked dryly. "One of the ambulance drivers is a smoker, apparently, and gave him a light. I don't think it's such a good idea, considering he's just taken a bullet to the shoulder, but at least it calmed him down."

"But…" Tachibana frowned, and turned back to the building. If Akutsu smoking hadn't triggered the fire alarm, then what? He saw no signs of smoke. "Has the building been cleared? If there really is a fire, when I told people to not worry…"

"The firemen are still looking, but so far there's been no sign of a fire," Oishi assured him.

Tachibana nodded, but kept his eyes on the building. The open window of Yagyuu's apartment caught his eye, as it was the only open one. "No fire, a conveniently open window…" Tachibana shook his head. "What the hell is going on here?"

0

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The ambulance doors slammed close, and the paramedic that had been chewing gum managed to sit down right before the car started moving. He pulled his hand through his hair, pulling off the brown wig, and revealing red hair. He glanced to the front of the car and met the driver's eyes through the mirror, and grinned. "That was too fucking easy!"

"For you, maybe," a disgruntled voice remarked from midst bloody curtains. "You're not the one that had to fall over eleven floors and then hit the fucking pavement. That fucking hurt!"

"On that subject," the driver commented calmly. "Did you have to drag the curtain to its death with you? Those were very expensive curtains, Niou-kun."

"It's only blood, it washes off!" Niou shouted, pulling the curtain from his face. He still wore a pair of glasses on his nose, and miraculously they were undamaged, as were his face and arms, though he was covered in his own blood. "Besides, I though it added a little dramatic flare to it. I bet it looked cool."

"I don't care if my death looked _cool_," Yagyuu informed him from the driver's seat. "You ruined my curtains."

"You're never gonna see your fucking apartment ever again, why the hell are you bitching about the curtains?" Niou asked and ruffled his short, brown hair. He'd put off dying it again until tomorrow night. Standing in front of Yagyuu, while wearing Yagyuu's face was a strange feeling, but one Niou rather liked, if only because it was one of the few things that made Yagyuu visibly uneasy.

"I decorated my whole apartment to match those curtains," Yagyuu said and turned the steering wheel, making a turn so abrupt Niou was thrown from the stretcher on to the floor of the ambulance. He picked himself up, balled the curtain that had been wrapped around him, and threw it on the stretcher. He picked himself up, and moved to the front of the car to look over Yagyuu's shoulder.

"Considering the hardship my mother will have to bare, I would have at least liked to have left her with a nice apartment." Yagyuu spoke again, never taking his eyes of the road.

Niou looked sideways at the man whose death he had just faked, and wondered how it was possible Yagyuu could speak so calmly about it. But it was that callousness that had caused Niou to notice him in the first place. Yagyuu could spring a cold blooded murderer out of jail without feeling any kind of remorse, and he did it all because of money. He was more of a monster than Niou could ever claim to be. His mother was the only person to ever cause any kind of emotional reaction in Yagyuu, and even those emotions were expressed in a manner that was calm and controlled.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Niou-kun?" Yagyuu asked, and glanced at him through the rear view mirror. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and without them he looked so much less like himself. Niou was a little startled to notice that it mattered to him, that Yagyuu would look like himself.

Niou took the glasses from his nose and held them beside Yagyuu's face. Yagyuu glanced at them, then looked back at the road. "I don't need them, I have contacts."

"Put them on," Niou whispered, and Yagyuu looked at him again through the mirror, but only for a fraction of a second before his eyes returned to the road. Then he sighed and took the glasses from Niou's hand and placed them on his nose, pushing them back with one finger.

"Better?" he asked, turning another corner.

Niou grinned and manoeuvred himself to sit on the passenger's seat. He felt giddy, that Yagyuu had done something he had asked, light headed at the knowledge that Yagyuu would do just about anything if he asked. "Better," he echoed Yagyuu, but with smugness in his voice.

Niou looked out of the window, and frowned. "Where are we going?" he asked, noticing that they weren't heading towards the more secluded parts of the city.

"To the morgue," Marui answered from the back.

"Why?" Niou asked.

"For me to remain dead, there has to be a body. But we have no body," Yagyuu said.

"So?" Niou prompted.

"So, we will need to blow up the morgue," Yagyuu answered and turned another corner. "An explosion, if done right, will destroy the remains in the morgue so there will be nothing left of them."

"There'll be people there," Niou pointed out.

Yagyuu took another sideway glance at him, and the corner of his mouth twisted up, just a little, and he reached out to drag his finger down the side of Niou's face, the clogged up blood still covering almost every inch of Niou's face like a horrific mask, sticking to his finger. "Well, I imagine you'll be hungry," he said.

"So cruel," Niou purred with a smirk on his lips, and caught Yagyuu's hand by the wrist before he could pull it away, wrapping his fingers around it and shivered at the feel of Yagyuu's heart beat under his fingers. "And so brave," he added in a murmur, not surprised at all that the pulse under his fingers had not sped up even in the slightest.

0

0

Ryoma had finally gotten his shower, but was still waiting for the tea.

He'd come out of the bathroom, dressed in an overly large bathrobe to hear Oshitari yell, "I put some clothes out for you in the bedroom!" He'd crossed the hallway to the bedroom, and on the bed there had been a pair of worn jeans that were a little too long for him and a T-shirt that Ryoma suspected made him look like a kid wearing his father's shirt. Thankfully there was no mirror, so he couldn't confirm it.

Barefoot, dressed in a shirt he almost drowned in, and in jeans so big he had to hold on to the waist so they wouldn't fall off, Ryoma appeared in the living-room, and was faced with the maniac from the hallway.

The man glared at him with his eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Ryoma glared back, wondering if he wouldn't have been safer inside the bedroom. If he moved the bed against the door, he could form a sturdy barricade.

The man crossed his arms, stared at Ryoma, and finally let out a puff of air and said, "Yuushi explained everything to me. I'm Gakuto." After the introduction the man huffed and walked towards the kitchen, then stopped and turned back. "There's belts in the top drawer of the cupboard," he added, looking pointedly at Ryoma's hand holding up the jeans.

"Okay, uhm… thanks…" Ryoma muttered.

The man's nose scrunched up, and he opened his mouth, possibly to say something insulting, but then changed his mind, turned and disappeared to the kitchen.

Ryoma shifted from one foot to the other, lifted his hand to rub his eyes, and the jeans fell to his ankles. Face hot Ryoma quickly pulled the jeans back up, and both hands holding the jeans up he returned to the bedroom, where he found the cupboard. He pulled open the top drawer and as promised, found belts. With one hand holding on to the waist of the jeans he stuck the other inside, and paused as his fingers touched solid plastic.

He knew what his father would keep in his belt drawer, if he was single and had a belt drawer, but that didn't mean Oshitari kept his porn collection there. He probably kept his porn in the sock drawer. Or on a shelf in the living room.

Besides, even if it was porn, Ryoma had absolutely no right to go through a man's belt drawer in search of porn. Just because something was plastic and square, and hidden under belts, didn't mean it was a DVD full of porn.

With every intention of just taking out a belt, Ryoma closed his fingers around the plastic and pulled out a DVD … "Gone With the Wind?" Ryoma said out loud and blinked. "Really fucking strange place to keep your movies," he muttered, placed the DVD back in the drawer and took out a black belt.

Finally with jeans that didn't fall to his ankles when he forgot to keep them up, Ryoma returned to the living room, and took his time looking around. There was a big TV on the bookshelf to his right, surrounded with shelves stacked with books, DVD's and CD's, a stereo next to the bookshelf on the left of it, and a big potted plant on its right. A small coffee table in the middle of the room with a blue couch and two chairs surrounding it, right a head of Ryoma the hallway where he knew his shoes were, and to the left the kitchen doorway, and even more to the left a window with the curtains pulled aside.

Ryoma walked over to the couch and sat down, his eyes fixed on the blank TV screen. He glanced at the remote on the coffee table, wondering if anything interesting was on, but then decided to just wait until Oshitari remembered he was there.

A large, white mug was placed on the coffee table before him, and Ryoma leaned closer when the scent of hot chocolate made his mouth water.

"Out of tea," Oshitari explained and sat down on one of the chairs on Ryoma's left, cradling his own mug in both his hands. "I always forget to buy it. Gakuto's the one who insists I have it, since he doesn't like coffee."

Ryoma tore his gaze away from the steaming hot chocolate and looked at Oshitari. The man looked just like he did when they were in school, but there was some difference. He looked more comfortable, more at ease here, in his own living room, surrounded by his own things. Even when he acted like a leering pervert, there was still something in him that reminded Ryoma that this man was an authority figure, their teacher. Now, now he was just a man sitting in his own living room entertaining a guest.

"I hope it's okay," Oshitari smiled at him. "The hot chocolate, I mean. Or would you have preferred coffee? I should have asked, but kids usually-" then he cut himself off with a loose grin, and coughed into his fist. "Not that I think of you as a child, Echizen-kun, of course," he added swiftly, when he noticed Ryoma frowning at being called a kid.

"Your boyfriend thinks I am," Ryoma said and picked up the mug from the table, and waited until Oshitari was taking a sip from his coffee before adding, "He called me a child prostitute." and smirked behind his mug when Oshitari spluttered and choked, and then yelped when he spilled hot coffee all over his chest.

Still coughing, Oshitari placed the almost empty mug on the table and grimaced when he lifted his coffee soaked shirt up from his skin. "I apologize for Gakuto, he's a little…"

"Crazy?" Ryoma suggested.

"Dramatic," Oshitari said, frowning down at his ruined shirt.

Ryoma sipped his hot chocolate, and savoured the sweet taste. The warmth spread through him, and he pulled his feet up on the couch and leaned back, cradling the mug closer to his chest. He yawned, and blinked, suddenly very tired. He wondered what time it was.

"You can sleep here, if you want," Oshitari said. "But I wish you would re-consider letting me call your parents. They must be worried."

Ryoma shook his head, not looking at Oshitari. "I don't want to go home, I just…" he trailed off, staring down at the brown liquid inside the mug in his hand.

"You will have to, eventually," Oshitari continued. "Your father regrets yelling you, you must know that."

"He's sending me off to some stupid boarding school," Ryoma spoke to his hot chocolate. "Like it would change anything to send me off somewhere."

"Are you sure it wouldn't?" Oshitari asked, and Ryoma's head snapped up. "After what you've been through… A change of scenery, a chance to meet new people and experience new things might be just what you need."

Ryoma swallowed the angry retort he had on the tip of his tongue, and thought about what Oshitari had said. A change to get away from all of it, from the nightmare his life had turned into… But then he shook his head, knowing that even if it were possible, he didn't want to. And he knew he couldn't explain it to Oshitari, or to anyone without sounding crazy. Even if Oshitari would believe that vampires were real, trying to convince him that Ryoma wanted to stay here where they'd never leave him alone, would label him as some type of crazy.

Things had changed for him. What had once mattered, didn't anymore, and he thought differently about some things, things that had defined his whole being at the time they'd happened.

When he thought of his kiss with Sakuno, he knew it shouldn't have felt like something infuriatingly incomplete and lacking, not when he remembered how happy and perfectly content he'd felt then. Kissing Sakuno had been like floating on clouds, seeing her smile had given him wings, and just by holding his hand she'd made him feel like king of the world. And now the thought of her wasn't that different than the thought of sitting in a classroom next to Kachirou.

Ryoma brought his hand up to his neck and placed his hand over the bandages there, and licked his lips, images and sensations flooding his mind as he remembered all the times cold lips had been pressed there. He hardly even thought of the attack that had sent him to the hospital anymore, and even though the fear wasn't completely gone, other, more powerful feelings had pushed it aside.

"It wouldn't make any difference," Ryoma finally spoke and looked at Oshitari, who let out a deep sigh and rubbed his forehead with two fingers.

"You will have to go home eventually," Oshitari said. "You can't live out on the streets."

When the doorbell rang, Ryoma's head turned sharply towards the hallway, and he let out a strangled sound. Suddenly he felt trapped, sitting in the comfortable couch, with his legs crossed and the taste of chocolate still in his mouth.

Gakuto appeared from the kitchen, a white apron over his clothes, and frowning at the door. "It's that woman again," he muttered and glared at Oshitari as if it was his fault. "_'Out of coffee, Oshitari-sensei'_ my ass. She just wants to stick her breasts in your face. I swear Yuushi, one of these days I'm gonna strangle her with her own hair."

Ryoma felt the tension drain out of him at the red head's nagging voice, and he let out a relieved breath.

"We could just pretend we're not here, Gakuto," Oshitari suggested with a fond smile. "It's not worth the trouble," he added.

"No!" Gakuto's voice was almost a shriek by now and his cheeks were flushed. He waved his left hand and Ryoma noticed he was still holding a wooden spoon with some kind of brown sauce on it. "I'm going to shove this down her throat!" He pointed the spoon at Oshitari, and some sauce flew through the air and landed on Oshitari's nose.

Ryoma stifled a giggle as the fiery tempered red head stomped towards the front door, not apparently realizing he'd sprayed his boyfriend with dinner.

"He's going to get me evicted," Oshitari sighed and wiped the sauce from his nose.

Ryoma was about to ask why Oshitari put up with the man, when Gakuto's body landed face first on the coffee table before him, the arm that still held on to the wooden spoon stretched out on the table. Ryoma stared at the hand, willing it to move, and no matter how annoying he thought the man's voice was, he'd give anything to hear it now, because he couldn't, couldn't be dead, not because of him, he didn't want to be responsible for someone else dying, because he knew, knew that it was his fault the man was lying there, still, unmovable, his fault they were dead, his fucking fault-

"Gakuto!" Oshitari screamed and turned the man around and cradled his head in his hands. "Oh my God Gakuto, open your eyes, look at me!"

Ryoma, still sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, and the warm mug held tightly between his hands, turned his head slowly, and tried to breathe through the paralysis that had taken hold of his lungs, and clenched closed his throat. He didn't know what he expected to see step into the room, but Yanagi would have never even entered his mind as a possibility, not when there were so many other monsters he'd seen handle human life like it wasn't anything very special.

"Echizen, call an ambulance! Echizen!" Oshitari yelled and when Ryoma didn't answer, turned to look at the boy. "Echizen!" he screamed again when the boy wouldn't even look at him, but stared blankly at the doorway. Oshitari followed Ryoma's gaze and saw the man in the doorway. It did not take him long to put the pieces together, and soon he'd stood up and was running towards the man with his hands fisted, growling.

"No, don't!" Ryoma screamed, snapping out of his trance. He got to his feet and jumped over the couch and ran after Oshitari, but was too late.

Oshitari had reached Yanagi, and pulled his fist back to hit him, but stumbled because Yanagi wasn't there anymore, but standing behind his back, hand beside his neck, pushing. Oshitari's face hit the wall and he slid down, a speck of red on the white where his head had hit.

Yanagi spent a moment looking down at Oshitari before he turned to Ryoma and extended his hand. "Come," he said, and when Ryoma backed away, he sighed. "This will be easier for me if you are not conscious, you do understand that, don't you?"

Ryoma swallowed, and after glancing at Gakuto's unmoving body once more, closed the distance between himself and Yanagi, and took the hand that was offered to him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Beta:** Youkai Kisaki

**A/N:** Another history chapter. There will be three of them, and they will focus on Fuji. For the most part.  
Comments and critique appreciated.

* * *

When Fuji woke, it was not any noise or a sound that alerted him, but a silence he had not expected to encounter when he woke.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him, knowing without even looking that Atobe had not returned last night, after he had made sure Fuji rested comfortably on the bed, and that the windows were sealed so no light could shine through them during the day.

He had left the room to Fuji. The reason for it could have been any in a million. It might have been something so simple as politeness, or something more complex, that the ultimate reason for the action laid somewhere in their shared past, even if it had been initiated by something said earlier on that same night.

It was after all not as if they had no disagreements that had gone unresolved, fights that had been interrupted and never quite finished, neither apologizing nor forgiving.

And he felt sorry for that.

Fuji was envious of Ryoma. His relationship with Atobe was still new and fresh, they had yet to create so much history between them that it would undoubtedly interfere even in the menial things in life.

Sighing, Fuji pushed up from the bed and briefly glanced at the mirror on the wall before leaving the room.

He knew it was not what Atobe wanted him to do, but he could not stay locked up in that extravagant, modern room, with its widescreen TV, fully stocked mini-bar and a large bed with a soft mattress and puffy pillows that scented of some kind of exotic fruit. He wanted to see the night sky, feel the cold air and biting wind against his skin and hair, and most of all he hungered. The steady, sometimes rapid beat of little human hearts all around him in the rooms of the hotel drove him mad with lust. The fast beat of the two lovers above him, the slow one of the elderly women on his right, the steady, powerful one of the young businessman below him, the frightened, rapid pulse of the maid who was startled by his sudden appearance in the hallway.

Fuji smiled at the maid, drinking in her fright, yearning for her breath in his mouth, to hear her final gasp, to taste her, to have her. "Can I get you anything, sir?" she smiled timidly.

Fuji nearly moaned aloud at how eager she was to please him, how easy it would be to just take her. "No, I am fine," he said and walked to the elevator. Its doors opened and Fuji stepped inside and rode down next to a boy who'd been sent down by his mother, to meet his father in the restaurant.

Such sweet torture, so full of temptation was the building, that Fuji did not understand how Atobe could stand it. His hunger, already raging only grew at the scent of the boy's sweat, and it pulsed to the beat of his little heart, making the sudden impulse to take him almost irresistible. Life always tasted the sweetest when it was still untainted by the ugliness of the world.

It was why, perhaps, Ryoma was so tempting. So filled with hunger for power, and yet so innocent in his desire for it. The boy thought himself vile and despicable for not willing to offer his own life for someone else's, yet there had been no ill will in the boy's mind towards the woman - Fuji was sure - only the desire to live.

In the lobby Fuji followed the boy as he went to his father who hoisted the running boy up in the air, and they both laughed, the father making a joke about how women were always late.

Fuji looked back at the elevator, wondering if it would be worth the trouble to go back up, and see the woman responsible for such a happy family, to feel her love in him.

But a honk of a car horn, the cry of a woman, and the laughter of a man, a scream that could have belonged to either, drew his mind out to the night of the city that harboured souls far from innocent, and to minds filled with thoughts of bloody deeds.

Maybe innocence was not the best taste, after all, not tonight. He wanted to feel bloodlust like his own burn in his mouth, to take down a savage creature like himself. And he understood then, the hunger in which Atobe had spoken of killing another like them, a fledgling, one of Tezuka's children.

Fuji had not tasted immortal blood other than that of his maker, and wondered now would it still taste as wonderful when he himself was immortal?

And perhaps it was the thought of his maker that made his presence noticeable to Fuji. And once his presence was there, it drew him like a light in a dark night would have drawn a moth.

Still hungry and thirsting, Fuji made his way to his maker, and only when he reached his destination, did he stop and see where they were.

Sanada was standing at the steps of a temple, and below him stood the Echizen house.

"Is he there?" Fuji asked, moving to stand next to Sanada, and looked down at the house that to his surprise was dark. "If he is, he won't be happy to find you here."

Sanada glanced at him once before his eyes returned to the silent house. "He is all I have left," Sanada spoke to him in a tone that made Fuji wonder if it even mattered that he was there, if Sanada would have spoken even if it had been someone else there. "Yukimura was my world, and when I lost him it was Atobe that kept me intact, grounded to this world. Now that I have woken there is no other place for me than by his side."

"But Yanagi and Kirihara-"

"Yanagi looks to me to be the leader, and so does Kirihara, even if he denies it. They look to me for answers. Atobe… He makes his own choices."

"And you follow?" Fuji asked.

Sanada laughed, the sound harsh on the silent temple grounds, where whispers would have been more suited. "No. But neither does he follow." Sanada turned his face to Fuji, a small, sad smile on his lips. "I wonder if you understand, if you can. We are equals. Neither leads nor follows. I can never have another leader besides Yukimura, but neither do I wish to rule."

"Sounds wonderful," Fuji muttered, feeling doubtful.

Sanada snorted and returned to watching the house. "I do not want to think that I have lost it," he frowned. "That he has chosen this boy over me."

"It's not how he sees it," Fuji kept his voice as low as he could without whispering. "He still needs to compete with Yukimura when it comes to you."

"That is not it, it never was," Sanada answered. "He might think it, even believe it, but it was never the truth."

"Then what is?"

Sanada did not turn his face from the house this time, but looked at him from the corner of his eye and said, "You were there. Can you not answer your own question?"

"I never saw him," Fuji said, meaning Yukimura.

"But it is because of him you stand here now," Sanada looked away. "Your creation was Atobe's punishment."

Fuji thought there should have been some emotion in those words, that they should have been spoken in some other tone than the emotionless one Sanada used.

"Was I?" Fuji finally managed to utter, crossing his arms across his chest, so they would not shake so much. But it turned out useless, because all of him was shaking. "I never knew."

"You hardly mattered then, Fuji. The only one who cared for you was Atobe."

**1790**

**-**

**London - England**

Yanagi stepped inside the house with Kirihara and pulled off his cloak, immediately sensing the tense atmosphere, and he did not need to think long to guess the reason for it. It was nothing new, the thick frustration of their master lingering in the house, but this time it was thicker and more on edge. Atobe had been gone longer than before, for nearly four months this time. And he had not bothered to say where he was going, or when he would return, if he would return.

From the moment Yukimura and Sanada had returned two years ago with Atobe, Yanagi had sensed the change in them. Sanada's eyes no longer followed Yukimura every second. Instead his gaze would sometimes trail after the new vampire, who with one look had forced Kirihara to back away, snarling, and blocked Yanagi from his mind without even bothering to put up the pretence of a fight. Atobe was frighteningly powerful for someone new to the blood, and fascinated both Sanada and Yukimura far too much.

Before Atobe the four of them had existed amicably. There had been order in the way they lived, a strict hierarchy that had pleased Yanagi. No one ever questioned Yukimura's position as the leader, or his right to command them. He was the eldest, and the most powerful of them, their master and maker who did not need to ask for them to follow him.

Atobe had defied that hierarchy from the very start. He argued with Yukimura, something none of them had ever done. When Yukimura called for him, Atobe would ask why he should comply, asked for a reason when none of them had never questioned Yukimura.

There was one instance of Atobe's defiance that Yanagi remembered more clearly than any of the others. It had happened after Atobe had disappeared for the first time, a few months after his arrival, and returned within a few days with a human, a man he called Kabaji, who acted as Atobe's servant. Yukimura had smiled amusedly at this, Sanada frowned, but neither had spoken a word against it.

"_Get me a pillow, Kabaji,"_ Kirihara had told the human soon after his arrival, and with a subdued _'Usu'_, Kabaji had turned to get a pillow, when Atobe's voice had stopped him.

"_Kabaji, you will not do anything Kirihara orders you to do,"_ Atobe had said, staring at Kirihara. _"Try once again to take what is mine and I will have Kabaji drag your unconscious body under the afternoon sun."_

"_If you are too weak to fetch a pillow for yourself, Akaya, maybe you should consider training your own human,"_ Yukimura had commented then, walking in to the room with Sanada. And while Kirihara had laughed, Atobe had bared his teeth in a snarl directed at Yukimura.

Yukimura had only smiled, and Atobe had taken a step towards him, hands fisted in anger, but Sanada had stepped between the two. After staring at Sanada for a long moment, Atobe had nodded once before leaving the room, taking Kabaji with him. Sanada had taken a step after him, but Yukimura's voice calling out, _"Sanada, stay."_ had stopped him.

The cracks had begun to show then. Before then, Yukimura had not needed to order Sanada to stay.

And then there were the hushed conversations between the two, held in the garden when they thought no one could hear them, or in the room at the far end of the house where none of them ever bothered to go, because it was where the human, Kabaji slept.

"_Come with me, Sanada. This is not natural, and you know it. To have all this power so close, it makes my skin crawl and my teeth ache."_ Atobe's voice had been fervent, and Yanagi had shivered at the anxiousness he'd heard in it. _"Not a day goes by that I do not wish to tear out your throats, or feed off you, to drink you so dry that there is nothing left, but ashes."_

"_I cannot leave Yukimura,"_ Sanada had answered, and even though by themselves the words were final, Yanagi had heard the hesitation in his friend's voice, and doubted Atobe had missed it.

"_He does not want you like I do,"_ Atobe's voice had purred. _"You still remember the heat we shared, that joint yearning? We can have it again." _

"_We do not need to leave to share that again,"_ Sanada's voice had lowered, and was thick with lust. _"Let me-" _

"_No!"_ The denial had been shouted sharply. _"Not in this house, when he looms over us like some giant spider." _

"_Do you truly hate him so much?"_ Sanada had asked, desperate pleading in his voice, and Atobe had laughed, malice and dark amusement edged deep into the sound.

Yanagi could have told Sanada that Atobe did not hate Yukimura. What Atobe felt for the older vampire was more complex than anything simple hatred could have explained.

Only when Sanada was present did the hostility between Atobe and Yukimura grow unbearable. Both were so determined to have Sanada to themselves, to leave nothing for the other. Yanagi did not think Atobe truly cared for Sanada; all Atobe cared for was that Yukimura would not have him.

Kirihara of course thrived in the hostile atmosphere, and had never been happier, but Yanagi found it oppressive, and knew that it could not continue for long. Someone would eventually break, and he could only hope it would not be Sanada, who was pulled between the two like a rope in the endless tug o' war.

When Atobe was there with them, there was tension and sparks in the air, but when he was gone, they all treaded on fragile glass, because Yukimura grew anxious without him, when he could not pull his shining child against him, or brush his fingers against the perfect skin.

Yukimura loved them all, but Atobe he adored in a manner which none of them understood, not even Sanada. Or perhaps least of all Sanada, whom Atobe had enthralled just as strongly as he had enthralled Yukimura.

Yanagi found Yukimura inside the drawing room, standing before the fire, back facing the room. His right hand was resting on the wooden mantle, while his left hand was fisted to his side. Sanada stood by the door which Yanagi stepped through alone. Kirihara had disappeared from his side, not wanting to be part of the confrontation he sensed was near. The boy would be somewhere close enough to hear their voices, but far enough that he could not be dragged into it.

Yanagi glanced at Sanada, raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Sanada shook his head. So there had still been no word of Atobe. They usually heard something of the man within a month, if not from himself, then from another that had seen him.

But four months and no word, made them all wonder that perhaps Atobe had finally chosen to leave for good, as he had always threatened to do.

Yukimura turned to face them, and from only seeing his face you could not have known how furious he was. His face was as calm, and even if there was no a smile on his lips, neither was there a frown, or any other sign of displeasure. But the air was so full of rage Yanagi was nearly suffocated by it.

"Bring him home, Sanada," Yukimura said, voice light and tender.

"Where?" Sanada asked no more.

Yukimura closed his eyes, and smiled tensely. "In Malsbry. He has a little house there." His smile widened when his eyes locked with Sanada. "And a little pet that sits by his feet every night when he warms by the fire, wishing he still needed its warmth." The venom in Yukimura's voice, the hatred in which he spoke of this pet, made it clear it was not a dog or a cat he meant.

"And what do you wish me to do with this pet?" Sanada asked, knowing Yukimura well enough to not ask.

"Only what he asks of you," Yukimura replied with a gleeful smile. "But you can deny him, if you so wish. Though I doubt you will." Yukimura laughed softly.

Sanada left, and when he heard the front door close after him, Yanagi approached Yukimura.

"You told Sanada to do something Atobe will not be pleased with, didn't you Seichii?" he asked, the first name slipping out, as it tended to when they were alone.

Yukimura glanced at him, smiling almost joyously, a lustful hunger haunting behind it, a yearning that had nothing to do with blood. Yanagi felt dread at the look. He had seen it before; when Yukimura's eyes followed Atobe when the man strolled through the house, lost in his thoughts, forgetting for a moment that he despised them all, that he did not wish to be here. He'd seen it when Atobe was lost in pleasure, his prey still caught in his embrace, the blood warm and still living in his mouth and veins, making his body vibrate to the rhythm of the living world.

Yukimura sometimes looked at Atobe like he was a poisonous snake, that's allure was too tempting for him to not want to reach out and touch it, even at the risk of getting bitten by its venomous fangs.

"Not just to touch," Yukimura whispered, and Yanagi was surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have been, not when he had not even made an attempt to hide his thoughts and fear. "To own, to have it yield to my will."

Yukimura turned his back on Yanagi and kneeled beside the fire and outstretched his arm, almost pushing his fingers into the fire. "And not a snake, not an animal," he whispered, curling his fingers in the warmth of the flames, watching the gold and bronze colours of the fire play on his skin. "The sun. He is the sun that would turn me to ash, but I will do what no man has done, and make that brilliant orb of flames embrace, and not burn me."

Yanagi stood there, beside his master as he knelt by the fire and played with the flames, and soon Kirihara was there too, cross legged beside their master, staring fixedly at the flames as if he could see in them what Yukimura did, and was just as spellbound by the image they created.

But stare as he might, Yanagi could not see what they did in those flames, and try as he might, he could not see Atobe as anything but a dangerous beast, that would rip them all to shreds the first chance he got.

**Malsbry - England**

The house Sanada had learned Atobe lived in was located in the centre of the small town, and it seemed everyone knew who he was. There were no malicious rumours of him amongst the people, no one spoke ill of him, they only seemed to find Atobe's sometimes boastful manner amusing. Few puzzled why he never left his house before dark, but none ever thought it was the product of anything other than aristocratic oddity. After all, Atobe visited the church, even if only during the night, and was great friends with the priest and his family, especially with their eldest son who was a frequent visitor in Atobe's house.

They deemed it good that the priest's son had a friend of his own age, and some pleasure in his life, especially since the priest's youngest son was suffering from a long illness. The elder boy had always adored his younger brother, and the illness had been hard for him to bear. Atobe's friendship had brought the joy back to his smile.

Sanada slipped silently inside the house through the door in the back. It was not locked, and Sanada wondered briefly if that was because Atobe was expecting him, or because he saw no need to keep it locked in a town as peaceful as Malsbry.

The back door opened in to a small room with three doors. The one on his right was slightly open, and from the narrow opening Sanada could see the image Yukimura had so bitterly described.

Atobe sat on a chair before the fire, a glass of red wine in his hand, and by his feet sat a young man with sand coloured hair that graced his shoulders. There was silent beauty in the boy that vaguely reminded Sanada of Yukimura, but this youth did not posses the dangerous edge that made Yukimura's beauty so breathtaking. He did not have the violent fire that burned in Yukimura, nor the passion.

The man, whom Sanada guessed was of the same age Atobe had been two years ago, twenty, laid his head against Atobe's knee. Keeping his attention on the wine glass, Atobe rested his other hand over the young man's head, and stroked his hair absently, like one would pet a child, or a favourite dog.

"Every night you always ask me to pour a glass of wine for you." Like the rest of him, the man's voice was soft and gentle, very similar to that of a woman's. It was perhaps that likeness that caused Atobe to smile, and lean down so their faces were only inches a part, lips close enough to kiss. "But you never drink it," the man continued, and obediently parted his lips when Atobe lifted his chin, and pressed the glass against his lips and poured wine into his mouth.

When Atobe took away the glass, a drop of the wine escaped down the young man's jaw and neck, but before it could stain the white shirt he was wearing, Atobe stopped its trail with his finger. He placed the glass - still half filled - on the floor and stared at the drop of red wine on his pale skin, and leaned back.

Letting out a short laugh, almost a bark, Atobe lifted the hand and opened his mouth, but the man reached up and curled his fingers around the wrist. With his eyes locked to Atobe's, he licked the drop from form the finger. And when Atobe only stared mutely, he chuckled and released the wrist, only to place his arms around Atobe's neck, and press his head against his chest. Atobe stiffened, but did not push him away. "You never eat or drink, and your skin is always cold. And now I know your heart doesn't beat."

Sanada saw Atobe's hands shake, but then they landed on the man's shoulders and pushed him away. Atobe stared in to the man's eyes, and a frowned. "No," he said, responding to a plead Sanada had not heard.

"Why not?" The man asked, the frustration just as clear in his voice, as the trust in his actions had been. "You know he doesn't have long."

"It isn't the answer to anything," Atobe said, and Sanada saw the man wince, and knew Atobe had tightened his grip on the shoulders. "I will not do it, Fuji, I'll never do it. Not even for you."

"Don't you have a brother? Someone you care for more than yourself?" Fuji asked, his face desperate. "Every day I have to watch as the illness eats him, watch him grow weaker, slip closer to death. You don't understand how it feels to see your brother suffer like that, especially when I know there is a way to save him!"

"I did have a brother," Atobe's voice was calm, almost cold. "I loved him too little, and you love yours too much. If I had loved my brother more he might still be alive, and if you loved yours in the way you should, you would let him die, not ask me to place a curse on him."

"What curse would it be to live forever, and not be bothered by illness?" Fuji fisted his hands on Atobe's shirt and pulled himself up so he could force Atobe to see only his face. "If you won't do it to him, do it to me, and let me decide my brother's fate!" he screamed, shaking.

Quickly and sharply, like a snake, Atobe pulled Fuji's neck against his mouth with a violent cry, barely muffled by the warm skin and the muscles of the slender neck. As he bit down and tore at the pink flesh, Atobe did not even try to control his hunger, but allowed it to run rampant, and let his teeth tear at the flesh so the blood pouring out of the wound covered them both. He pulled his prey closer, embraced him in a tight, impassionate embrace, ignored the pained screams and fed until the form in his arms ceased struggling, and hung to him, letting out small gasps of pain, when he no longer had the strength to scream.

Finally satisfied Atobe let go and threw the man across the room. Heaving, trails of blood running down his jaw, Atobe stood and stared at Fuji, the violence still burning in his eyes, and the fury of a hunting animal still radiating from him. When Fuji finally lifted his head from the floor and looked up to see a monster where his friend had been only seconds ago, he could not mask the terror that took over him.

Atobe strode across the floor, picked the man up by grabbing the collar of his shirt. He slammed Fuji against the wall, not caring that he winced and let out a whimper. "Is this really what you want your brother to be exposed to?" Atobe growled. "You want him to face a monster?"

"It doesn't need to be like this," Fuji whispered, tears of pain and terror running along the curves of his face. "You could be gentle with him. He doesn't have much life left in him, and it needn't hurt, I know it doesn't."

Atobe released Fuji, and let him slide down to the floor. He turned his back and pressed a hand against his temple. "No, you do not know," he finally said, and fell to the floor, as if the strength had left his feet. Fuji, still hunched against the wall, kept quiet, but crawled across the floor to place his arms around Atobe, and to rest his jaw on his shoulder.

"What happened to your brother?" Fuji asked.

"I killed him." Fuji stiffened, and almost pulled away, but instead hugged himself to Atobe even tighter. "Smashed his head in because he wouldn't shut up." Atobe turned his head so he could see Fuji, and noticed Sanada in the doorway. He frowned and stood up and Fuji, whose hands were still around him, was dragged standing because he refused to let go. "Leave, Fuji," Atobe said, keeping himself between the youth and Sanada.

Sanada saw Fuji prepare to question, or argue with the command, but Atobe's touch on his arm stopped him. "See Kabaji before you go. He will see to your wounds." Fuji looked confused, but a sudden flash of pain on his neck reminded him of Atobe's attack. Reluctantly he pulled his hands from around Atobe's body, and without really turning his back on them, left the room.

"I won't ask why you are here," Atobe said.

"He wants you to come home," Sanada told him despite that.

"No," Atobe smiled widely and crossed his arms across his chest. "I am enjoying myself far too much."

"Because of the boy?"

"He is part of it," Atobe glanced at the door Fuji had gone through.

"And his brother?"

"Dying." Atobe kept his answer short, with as little details as possible, as Sanada had done with his questions. "Since you are here… You might as well stay." Atobe returned to the chair he had been sitting on when Sanada had first seen him. "There is room in the basement for us both. I've had Kabaji brick up the windows, and he guards the house during the day."

"What will you do when he is gone?" Sanada asked, coming to his side. "He will not live forever like you."

"Live forever?" Atobe grinned, and laughed with pure joy, and Sanada could not be but amazed. He had never heard laughter like that from Atobe. It fluttered in his head, the pure sound of Atobe's hilarity, and pulled on the strings of his heart in a way that almost made him check if it wasn't beating.

"Oh Sanada, do you ever listen to yourself?" Atobe asked, his voice still quivering from the laughter. He grasped Sanada's arm and pulled the man down so he was now kneeling before Atobe. "The things you say," Atobe murmured fondly, grazing his knuckles against Sanada's cheek and stared at him with eyes that sparkled like shattered ice when the midnight's moon shone on it.

"Are you not worried?" Sanada asked, taking Atobe's hand and bringing it to his lips.

"About what?" Atobe asked, gliding one finger along the line of Sanada's jaw with an absent look.

"The boy. That he will say something, or someone will start to wonder where he received his injuries. Would it not be wiser to simply give him what he asks for?" Sanada wiped some of the blood from Atobe's face but before he could move the blood soiled finger to his mouth, Atobe's palm covered his mouth.

"No," Atobe answered, and never moving his eyes from Sanada's, pressed his tongue, still coursing with the warmth the boy's blood had given, against Sanada's fingers, slid it across the skin till not a single speck of red remained.

"You are far too possessive," Sanada remarked amusedly, swiped his thumb across another red trail marring the perfect white skin, but before Atobe could do no more than narrow his eyes, pressed it against Atobe's lips. Eyes opening wide, Atobe relaxed his mouth and let Sanada push the thumb past his lips, and pressed it against a sharp fang that cut through the skin, so the taste of Sanada's warm blood filled his mouth.

Atobe sighed contently around Sanada's thumb and his eyelids fluttered down over the cold fire that always burned through Sanada, leaving him bare and exposed before the other man. Even with blood drying on his face he could still enthral him, and Sanada suspected he would always be able to do that.


	22. Chapter 22

**Beta: **Youkai Kisaki

* * *

Fuji kept his eyes diverted from his reflection on the mirror, and tried instead to keep his gaze on the large man standing behind him. Kabaji's fingers brushing against his neck, cleaning the wound from blood and tying bandages were gentle, something Fuji would not have expected from the man.

He chuckled out loud at the thought. He of all people should know that appearances did not always match with what was inside.

That thought finally made him face his own reflection, and what he saw was what he had always seen when he looked at his own image. A boy who looked too frail and feminine to be counted as a grown man. He smiled - too much, Yuuta always said. Even when he wanted to weep, he smiled. He nearly always kept his eyes closed, because it was easier to hide what he felt, than let it show in his eyes, because what people saw made them uncomfortable. Even his family, even Yuuta.

The only one who'd never been uncomfortable, or at least had never shown it, was Atobe. It had been the first clue Fuji had that there was something different about the man. Something else besides the fact that he clearly belonged in a place far grander than their little town was.

And there had been only clues, little things that meant nothing on their own, and Fuji did not think anyone else had put them together and arrived in the same conclusion he had. And before tonight, even he had not been sure, not before he had pressed his ear against Atobe's chest and had not heard a heartbeat.

He knew it had been a stupid thing to do, and knew he was lucky to still be alive. He'd counted on the friendship he had with Atobe, believed that what they had built in only a few months was genuine, that Atobe cared for him as he cared for the other man. But it had been a risk, believing that a monster could have human emotions. But a risk he had been willing to take for Yuuta.

Because there was no more hope for Yuuta. The doctor had told them to prepare and their father had gathered the family to pray. Not to pray for Yuuta's healing, but so that his soul would reach heaven. Yuuta was dying, but Fuji was not willing to let him go. He had known there had to be a way, and then there had been.

He'd seen Atobe cut his hand on a knife, watched the man wince from the pain, seen the drops of blood on the floor, but when he'd reached the man there hadn't been a wound, and somehow the blood on the floor had disappeared. Fuji would have suspected his own memory, if Atobe had not told him to not ask. There should be no need to tell him to not ask, if there had not been answers Atobe was not willing to give.

He'd first considered the possibility that Atobe was an angel. He certainly looked the part, but he did not act it. So the next logical thing was demons. And for Yuuta Fuji was prepared to sell his soul.

But Atobe's skin hadn't burned when he'd spilled holy water on it. And he'd thanked Fuji's sister with a truly delighted smile when she'd given him a cross to wear around his neck, after she'd learned he did not have one.

That was when Fuji had abandoned God. If God had not sent Atobe to save or to damn them, He was nothing to Fuji. If God would not save Yuuta, Fuji would. He did not care what price he would have to pay, his life or his soul, he would give anything for Yuuta to live.

And Fuji was sure the answer, Yuuta's salvation lay in Atobe's hands.

When Atobe had arrived to their village Fuji had written to a friend that lived in London, and asked of Atobe. His friend's letter had arrived only a few weeks ago, and in it he'd told all he knew of the Atobe family. There was nothing special, or scandalous. The family was well respected and wealthy. The only interesting thing that Fuji's friend had known of had been about the current Earl of Atobe, a young man not much older than Fuji, who had disappeared two years ago along with his steward.

Other disappearances had occurred in the area at the same time, including two mysterious men that only Atobe and a missing gardener called Ohtori had ever met. Later the gardener's body had been found rotting in the basement of the house the two mysterious strangers had stayed in. Fuji's friend also told of rumours that claimed that the body had been entirely drained of blood. _'The villagers are screaming vampires, and want the house burned, and then the site blessed by a priest. Don't you just love peasants?'_ Fuji's friend had written in his letter, and the comment had made Fuji laugh. But not at the peasants.

Vampires. He now had something to look for.

The priest that had shepherded the Malsbry parish before Fuji's father had been a man that had a large book collection on things that no man of God should be interested in. One of the first things Fuji's father had done when he'd taken over the Malsbry parish was to lock all those heathen books behind a stern lock in his study.

From a very young age Fuji had learnt that if something was behind a lock, it was interesting. So Fuji had learnt to get around locks. The first lock he had gotten past was the lock that protected those forbidden books. He had not known how to read them then, but the pictures of horrifying monsters in dark woods, of tortured human bodies, the victims of terrifying creatures that held only a fraction of humanity in their form, had been enough for him.

But when Atobe arrived, Fuji had learnt to read the writing in those books, and in one of them he found a passage that told of monsters that fed on the blood of humans, and lived forever, never growing old. Eternally young, stronger than any human, who with their mind could command the elements and animals, and with their allure could seduce even the most virtuous of men.

He read what little there was told of those creatures, of how they feared the daylight, and slept in dark places where the sun could not reach them. The book said they were human once, these creatures, but it did not tell how they came to exist. But it did tell that only those that had once died could rise again, as a creature that craved for human blood to replace the cold of death that had claimed its body. To become a vampire, you must first die at the hands of one.

To take a life, and in such a manner... A creature that lived on the blood of a human could not be something that existed in the grace of God. That Fuji even considered befriending one meant his soul was already condemned.

But for Yuuta to live he would do anything, even if it meant that his brother would lose his place in God's merciful light. But Fuji did not think anyone would choose death, if they could have life. To live, even as a sinner was worth more than a dark and cold grave. Why wait to be resurrected on Judgement Day when you could still walk among the living when the dead rose from their graves?

Now he had only needed to be certain that Atobe was what he thought the man to be, that he could end Yuuta's suffering. And when he would have that certainty, he would ask Atobe to save his brother, share his gift with Yuuta. He had never thought that Atobe would deny him.

And he still couldn't believe it. That Atobe had said no. That there would be no magic blood, no miracles of the darkness for Yuuta and him. His brother would die, instead of becoming immortal.

Fuji narrowed his eyes at the boy he saw in the mirror. Was he really going to let Atobe do this to Yuuta? Yuuta was so young, not even twenty yet, and he had fallen ill when he had turned seventeen, at the peak of his youth. He had lived so fully, embracing everything with an open heart, with such passion and hunger it made Fuji feel ashamed at the apathetic way he himself did everything.

The light had dimmed in Yuuta's eyes when the illness came, it ate away at the passion and fury that Fuji so loved and treasured. It pained him to see it fade, to see Yuuta's fire dim. Yuuta's death would make his life bleak and meaningless.

Determined to have his way Fuji left the room, brushing away Kabaji's hands. He walked down the stairs and along the narrow corridor towards the room where he had left Atobe and the stranger. He did not hear them speak as he approached. He stopped beside the door, leaned against the wall, and listened.

0

0

"Come home," Sanada spoke. There was no plead in his voice, he was not asking.

"Hmm, you've grown impatient suddenly?" Atobe murmured with a slow smile, his eyelids resting heavily over his eyes. He raised his hand to let his fingers brush against the scowl on the other man's face, but Sanada rose from his kneeling position and walked to the window from where you could in the daylight follow the people of the town as they carried out their errands.

Now the only image before Sanada was the same Atobe had seen on many nights. An empty street, with a few lanterns that gave a red glow on the pebbles, and darkened windows on the house against the one they now occupied.

Atobe did not know if there was a moon out tonight, if it was a full moon, only a half, or a crescent one in the sky, nor did he know if there were clouds, or if you could see the stars against the velvety darkness.

Sanada turned from the window to let his eyes roam over the room again, and when he found nothing interesting in it, his gaze returned to rest upon Atobe, who smirked at the solemn expression Sanada wore.

"As much as I would like to see you smile upon hearing me comply to your request," Atobe said, making sure Sanada knew Atobe had not heard his words as a command, refused to do so, and would never follow any order Sanada gave him. "I will not do so at the expense of my comfort."

"The boy means so much to you?" That simple question from Sanada told Atobe more than if he had read Sanada's thoughts. Any answer he gave now would mean nothing. Sanada had already decided that it was because of Fuji he had stayed in this town, refused to return.

"No, he does not," Atobe answered, telling the truth. Or perhaps he was lying, and Fuji meant more to him than even he had thought, because Sanada smiled. Yet it was not a smile Atobe enjoyed seeing on Sanada's face. It was much too cruel. "But you do not believe that, do you?"

"It is of no consequence what I believe," Sanada answered, confirming what Atobe had suspected. That Fuji's fate had already been decided, and nothing he could say or do would change that. And the knowledge, the certainty made him feel a chill he had not felt for two years, never since he had died and been born again as a demon with no soul, and an unholy desire for the thick blood that flowed so richly in the veins of those he had once called his fellowmen. He feared, feared for the life of Fuji, for his soul. Feared for a human as if he still were one.

"You do not understand," Atobe finally spoke. "He loves his brother."

"That is only normal," Sanada replied slowly.

Atobe chuckled. "It is anything but normal. The love he holds for his brother goes beyond that which usually exists between brothers, and he…" Atobe sighed. "Is different."

"Different?"

"They call him a genius, the people of this town." Atobe spoke to the empty space beside Sanada's head. "And he is intelligent, cleverer than anyone in his family or in this town. He bores easily, and that boredom is the dangerous kind. He is dangerous."

"He cannot be any more dangerous than any of us," Sanada said, and Atobe finally met his eyes.

"No, not as he is now," Atobe agreed. "But if you burden him with the same hunger that burns in us, it will overwhelm him."

"The hunger overwhelms us all at one time or another," Sanada replied calmly, refusing to take Atobe's warning seriously. "You still have not said anything that would explain why you are so against this. And it is what he wants."

"You do not always need to follow his wishes," Atobe said, and stood. "You have a mind of your own. Use it!" he yelled, enraged. "It sickens me how you grovel at his feet like a lapdog!"

"Be careful Atobe. I am not like Kirihara whom you can insult without fear of reprisal," Sanada growled, clenching his jaw, and Atobe grinned when he saw Sanada's hand twitch.

"Would you like to punish me for my arrogance?" Atobe purred, and glided through the room so he could let his palm rest on Sanada's chest. "Strike at me, make me bleed and whimper at your feet, begging for mercy?" he whispered, almost seductively, and Sanada found himself smiling at this strange behaviour.

"What is this?" he asked, taking Atobe's jaw between two of his fingers and tilting up the pale face. "You are not one to enjoy pain."

Atobe laughed breathily, and coiled his fingers around the wrist of the hand that held his jaw. "No, but I enjoy seeing you lose control. Because it is the only time you are truly free of him."

Sanada scoffed and released Atobe's face. "I do not understand you," he said, and walked away from Atobe. "You would accept pain in my hands for that?"

"Yes." The word came from Atobe's mouth with such strength and emotion it made Sanada shiver. "I want you to be free of him. I want us to be free of him."

"I do not follow him out of necessity," Sanada said.

"Why you follow him at all, is what I do not understand," Atobe growled. "And because he told you, you will destroy the lives of these-"

"So it is about him," Sanada interrupted him, and Atobe's eyes grew wide as he realized his mistake. "You would say anything to keep me from doing as Yukimura wishes."

"No!" Atobe yelled, his voice thin from the sudden panic coursing through him. He could not have cared less about Fuji now, and he needed to make Sanada understand that. "I may care for him, but you mean more to me. You know that. There isn't anyone else in this world I care for more than I care for you."

"So you will not protest?" Sanada asked, and Atobe scowled.

"You will not turn his fate into a test of my affections for you!" Atobe yelled. "He deserves more than that. He would deserve more even if I did not know him. No one deserves to be turned into a monster simply because of some test of affection or loyalty, or because Yukimura wishes to punish me!"

"It was never anything so trivial when he chose you," Sanada spoke gently, thinking he had finally understood the reason behind Atobe's bitterness.

"Do you think I care for his reasons!" Atobe screamed. "They do not matter! Have never mattered!"

"Then what is it that matters?" Sanada asked. "I do not understand. Tell me," he pleaded.

Atobe scowled, and chewed on his lip. It was something he could never explain to Sanada, the reason why he fought so vehemently against every bit of control Yukimura tried to have over him. He hardly understood them all himself. He resented Yukimura for being stronger, more powerful, for having so much more than he did. He remembered how taken he had been by the man when he had first met him, and he had not even seen his face then. He could still do that to Atobe, could still be-spell him with a single smile or a word.

Yukimura had taken his life, had taken upon himself to decide that Atobe would never again be able to call himself the Earl of Atobe, could never return home. So many of Atobe's choices had been taken away from him when Yukimura had arrived.

There would never have been an opportunity to betray Shishido, leave Ohtori to his death if Yukimura had not arrived. It was his choice to leave Ohtori to them, but by choosing Ohtori Yukimura had laid the seed of Atobe's deed. Had Yukimura never arrived, Atobe would have lived on, resenting Ohtori for what he had. But he would have lived.

And even after all he had done, forsaken Ohtori and slain his brother; even then he could have still continued to live as himself. In a year or two he might have returned home, when certain no one suspected him of anything. But not now, when Yukimura had taken away his breath and heart beat. He could not return home as a dead man.

So many choices, and within a span of an hour Yukimura had robbed them all from him. And he had no doubt all Yukimura had thought of then was his lust. He had never given a thought to what it would mean to Atobe, this curse, to live as a walking corpse, to feel the burning hunger for blood, to know you had become a monster.

Atobe did not think he still possessed a soul, and if he did, it had shrivelled up and turned into an ugly stain after the first time the blood of a human had touched his lips.

"Do not ask when you know you will never receive an answer that will please you," Atobe finally answered Sanada.

"What do you mean?" Sanada asked despite the refusal, and Atobe sighed tiredly.

"I will never cease to resent him for what he did. And you will never understand that." Tired of this argument they'd had countless of times, Atobe returned to his chair and sat down on it. He glanced at the door, and with pained eyes turned to Sanada. "I will ask you once more to reconsider this."

When Sanada only looked at him, Atobe growled, and his voice dripping with hostility, yelled, "You may enter now, Fuji!"

Fuji pushed open the door, and raised his eyes to Sanada. "Will you tell me what I need to know so that I can save my brother?" he asked, his voice shaking, but filled with such aggravating certainty that it reminded Sanada of Atobe.

He looked at the boy. It was not by his own choice that Sanada would do this, bring another mortal to the world of darkness and bloodlust, but he did not find it repulsive, the thought of sinking his teeth in to the youth's creamy skin and to taste the blood that's scent had lingered in Atobe's breath.

"I will show you," Sanada answered, anxious to begin. "Come," he told the boy, who began to walk towards him.

The boy did not come straight to him, but stopped before Atobe's chair, and waited there until Atobe turned to look at him. "I wanted it to be you," Fuji said.

"It is too much to ask, Fuji, I-" Atobe looked away and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he did not turn to look at the boy, but kept his eyes on Sanada. "You shall receive what you desire from him. Be content with that. I wish you well, but do not expect things to remain the same between us."

"You would abandon me because of this?" Fuji sounded heartbroken, looked desperate in the face of Atobe's abandonment. "Because I cannot let my brother die?"

"It is not life that you ask." Atobe sounded emotionless, but Sanada saw the pain on his face, the turmoil he refused to let Fuji see. "We can only bring death, never life. Think carefully if that is the gift you wish to share with your brother."

"I cannot lose him," Fuji spoke with anguish, and fell on his knees, his hands reaching out to grasp Atobe's knees. "He is the only light in my life, the only truly good thing I have ever come across, and if he dies there will be nothing but darkness left for me."

"What good there is in him will be lost the moment blood touches his lips. He will become a monster that's survival requires the death of others. If it is the good in him you so cherish, why do you wish to destroy that?" Atobe asked, his voice light, as if he did not care, but his pained eyes were pinned on Sanada's face.

"Because he is dying!" Fuji screamed, causing Atobe to finally look at him.

"Let him," Atobe hissed, leaning over the boy who refused to flinch, or back down.

"I have had enough of this," Sanada spoke, interrupting the two. "The boy has made his choice, Atobe. You will have to accept this."

Atobe turned his furious glare on him, but like Fuji, Sanada did not recoil from it. "You can leave now, or you may stay, if you wish," Sanada continued. "But understand this, there is nothing you can do or say that will alter his fate."

"You have made that very clear." Atobe was not even attempting to hide his anger. "This is a mistake. And when it all comes crashing down I hope you'll be buried under it!"

Sanada was not shocked by the hostility, because he did not believe it to be entirely genuine. He knew Atobe must care for the boy and that he did not want him to be turned, but there was no reason why he should loathe it this much. He was convinced Atobe was dramatizing everything simply because he could not get his way, could not get Sanada to follow his orders instead of those given to him by Yukimura.

Sanada made his way to the boy, still kneeled before Atobe, laid his hand on his shoulder and waited for those strange blue eyes to look up at him. They were still guarded, and filled with hurt because of Atobe's words. "Do not concern yourself with him or his words anymore," Sanada told the boy. "Now you need only concern yourself with me, and we will be tied together for eternity by the blood." He spoke the same words Yukimura had spoken to him, and though he knew his tone lacked the gentleness Yukimura could speak them with, he saw them comfort and ease the boy.

It was not difficult after that to make the boy rise and take his hands, to lead him through the room to the back of the house and out to the garden. The night air, the bright moon and the scent of grass and dirt would be more pleasing to the senses of a new vampire, than any sensation that could be felt indoors.

Outside now, Sanada pressed his hand against the boy's face. "Calm," Sanada whispered when he felt the boy tense. "It does not need to hurt. Trust me. I will not let you feel the pain."

"How?" Fuji asked. "How can it not hurt, when you will have to…" his voice faded, and he lifted his hand to his neck where Atobe had bitten him.

Sanada took Fuji's hand from the neck and placed his hand there instead. "Atobe did that to you with the intention of causing pain. But it does not need to be like that. There need be no pain, only a sweet dream where you will feel nothing but contentment, and when the time is ripe you shall rise as a being that does not need to concern itself with such things, and you will learn the pleasure and fulfilment that comes with the blood."

"There is pleasure in the blood?" Fuji whispered. "The books never spoke of that. They only mentioned eternal life. I thought it was just a way to survive, not something to gain pleasure from…"

"Books?" Sanada asked, and allowed his mind seek the answer from the boy's mind. He smiled when he found the gruesome images and the ancient texts. "Not all answers can be found on books," he finally said. "Close your eyes, and let me guide you through your death and rebirth."

Fuji shivered at the word death, and drew back from the man, the memory of the pain Atobe had caused returning. When Sanada leaned closer, Fuji flinched, and pressed his eyes shut tightly. He tensed even more when Sanada's hands landed on his shoulders. He jumped a little when he felt a warm breath of air against his ear and Sanada spoke to him. "This is what he wanted, Fuji, don't let yourself be manipulated by him. You do not need to fear me, or the pain."

"You said there would be no pain," Fuji whispered accusingly, keeping his eyes closed.

"Only in the beginning," Sanada assured him, voice almost gentle. "And only a little." His voice had lowered, and Fuji imagined hearing a smile in the voice. It piqued his curiosity, and he opened his eyes and saw that although there was no smile on the man's lips, his eyes twinkled, as if he found Fuji amusing. It made Fuji feel ridiculous. He wanted to apologize for his reaction, but thought that would only make him seem even more ridiculous, so he stayed quiet, and forced himself to face Sanada's eyes and the warm laughter in them.

The dark brown of Sanada's eyes was so dark that it reminded Fuji of the well in the centre of their town. It had always seemed bottomless to him. You could never see the water, not even during the day when the sun was at its highest, and the light should have been reflected on the surface of the water. But there was never anything but darkness, and an endless void in the well.

That is what Fuji saw when he looked into Sanada's eyes; an endless void that pulled on him till he felt he would be forever lost in its depths. But in the endless and bottomless darkness he found warmth and comfort, a kind soul that wrapped itself around him.

When the pain came, it seemed distant, and faraway. It did not matter, the pain, when he could lose himself in the comfort of the darkness.

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Atobe sat in his chair, fuming with anger, not sure who the hatred was directed at.

He could not really blame Fuji for asking for a way to save his brother, and he did not wish to hate him. But he knew it would never be the same after this. Fuji would be different. He knew it by the way he himself had changed.

The moment he had been brought back from the grips of the cold darkness he had thought was death come claim him, he had felt the differences in his body and in his mind. Things that had mattered before no longer held any importance. The only thing that had mattered was the sweet taste on his lips, and the blood that had flown through his body, changing his very being. He had felt the change, the death of his mortal body and the birth of a new, immortal one. And this new body had power, and he had felt that power only grow as he drank more blood, and he began to yearn it, not just the blood, but the strength and power he felt come with the blood.

He remembered pushing the vessel of that strength under him, remembered burrowing into that heat and feasting with the power, the liquid light, remembered the delirious sensation when the body under him had began to lose its radiance as his power grew.

Then he had been ripped from that feast only to be faced with another just as bright, but with a different shade to it, and fevered, he had melted into the new pleasure and ripped it of its strength to gain his own. And how delicious it had been to feel that power surrender to him, open and share willingly with him all it held.

He still craved for it every night, for that power to surrender to him. And with a pang of jealousy he realised that tonight that power would yield to Fuji.

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Darkness, Fuji thought, was more comforting than he had imagined. And so was the sound of his heart beat.

He had never noticed it, how calming and reassuring the beat was. Steadily it beat in his chest, making note of the time he spent on earth, counting the hours of his life.

It never stopped or paused, always beating when it should.

And then it stopped. Where there had once been a sound, there was now silence. What had once been warm was now cold. And the darkness no longer seemed so comforting, when it was silent and cold, and empty.

But then something filled the emptiness, something that glowed warmly, beckoning him. And a voice called out to him, and it echoed in the empty darkness, calling his name, pleading him to drink power, to have eternal life. To drink so he could live forever like a shadow among the mortals he had once, only mere moments ago been like.

The plead was followed by the touch of something warm and wet against his lips, and Fuji opened his mouth to drink like the voice had beckoned him. The liquid spilled past his lips to his mouth, and down his dry throat, the taste of it salty, like the sea, and yet it was sweet like honey, and more intoxicating than any wine that had ever passed his lips.

"That will do," a voice spoke, and Fuji opened his eyes, tore his mouth from the feast and gazed up at the sky filled with little diamonds that shone like billions of suns, but with a pale, white light not that of the day's yellow and gold. Blue, silver and white, the shades of darkness, too many colours to count, so many he did not have a name for them all. And all that in the sky. He almost feared to let his eyes rest upon the earth, where the colours would be more plentiful.

And then there were the sensations that flooded over him. He felt the ground under him, the little insects crawling amongst the grass, heard the wind as it brushed against the leafs of the trees, against the ceilings, and the rocks on the ground, pebbles amongst the dust of the streets, the life that beat all around him, the hundreds of hearts that beat, replacing the sound of his heart beat that was no longer there.

But amongst all that he felt, the one thing he felt most keenly, the thing that threatened to overwhelm him was the presence of the creature that was kneeling beside him. It radiated of power and smelt of blood he could still taste in his mouth.

And he knew him, this man. It was like a warm glow in the back of his mind, his presence, more familiar to him than even his own mind.

Fuji reached out with his hand, hesitated, his palm hovering over the chest of that strangely familiar man, his hand shaking. He did not dare to touch this being, fearing the power he felt around him like the glow of the sun, but with no light or darkness. It was not something he saw, but felt with the tips of his fingers, a pressure against his skin. He knew that should the being so choose, that power could easily suffocate him, bury him under it, burn him to ashes.

"He will do no such thing," a familiar, brooding voice interrupted Fuji's musings and he looked up to Atobe's cold blue eyes, and gasped at how different and more beautiful the man looked now that he had new eyes with which to gaze upon him. "Sanada would not offer that much blood and power to someone he intended to destroy. You are safe from him." Fuji did not miss the implication that he was not safe from Atobe.

"Can I leave?" Fuji asked, and stood up. "Yuuta…"

Atobe laughed sharply, his head thrown back. "Yes Fuji, leave to condemn your brother," he spoke, still laughing, and turned his head to look at the figure sitting on the ground. "See how quickly he forgets what you have given him, in favour of his brother? I would be insulted, were I you."

"Lucky for us all then, that you are not me," Sanada answered, and stood slowly.

Atobe scoffed and turned to return inside the house. "We shall be here till morning, Fuji," he called, back still turned. "Should you need us."

Fuji frowned after him, wondering why Atobe would say that. "Wait!" he called after Atobe, who turned at his shout. "Why would you…?" he paused, and frowned. "You wouldn't say that, if there wasn't something…" he took two steps towards Atobe before stopping. "What do you know?"

The cold smile rising on Atobe's face frightened Fuji. "Don't let the morning creep up on you," he whispered with a voice as quiet as the gentle wind that played amongst the grass by their feet.

When Atobe had gone inside the house, leaving the door open to swing behind him, Fuji felt Sanada's hand land comfortingly on his shoulder, and turned to look at the taller man. "Do not let his words affect you," Sanada told him. "He is simply bitter that things did not go the way he wanted."

Fuji tilted his head in agreement, but could not force himself to be assured by Sanada's words. Despite the closeness he now felt with Sanada, Atobe had more of an affect on him. Perhaps it was because he still considered the other man as a friend, even after everything Atobe had said to him.

Sanada smiled grimly, and gave a wry laugh, a spark of amusement in the depths of his dark eyes. "He has that affect on me too," Sanada said, responding to Fuji's unspoken thoughts. "But he speaks the truth. Do not let the sun find your body, or you will perish. Find a safe place in which to sleep the day. And be careful around those you once knew. They might… notice the difference. The eyes of a loved one are quicker to notice things, than those of a stranger."

Fuji blinked, remembering his family. They would be there, of course. His parents would be sleeping, but Yumiko would be awake. She would wait for Fuji to come sit with Yuuta before going to bed. They had agreed to not leave Yuuta alone, and the Fuji siblings sat by their younger brother during the night, when their mother would be by Yuuta during the day. Their father joined her when he could. He could not abandon his duties even when his own son was dying. The wows he had given to the church meant more to him than his own family.

"Be careful of that bitterness you carry," Sanada told him. "You should not let it affect you anymore."

Fuji glanced at Sanada by cocking his head to the side. He had not noticed it before, but Sanada had been answering questions he had not spoken out loud, but only thought of. "Is it because of…" he paused, not sure how to phrase the question he wanted to ask, and waited to see if Sanada would answer even if he did not finish the sentence.

"Partly," Sanada said. "It is easier for me to read your thoughts because of the blood we share. But I could do the same to any human, and I suspect so could you. Unlike others, I am not capable of limiting the amount of power I give to those I make. You are almost as powerful as I am. A century, perhaps even less and you could match me in power, providing of course that I do not grow stronger during that time."

"Is that likely to happen?" Fuji asked, smiling.

Sanada did not answer his smile, and Fuji's smile slowly faded when the larger man only stared at him. Finally, when Fuji began to wonder if he had angered the other man somehow, Sanada answered with one word, "No." and followed Atobe inside the house.


	23. Chapter 23

**Beta: **Youkai Kisaki

**A/N: **And with a Double Post comes the conclusion of Fuji's tale, and the end of a second 'history tale'. The story returns to the present in the next chapter. Comments and criticism appreciated.

* * *

The small house, built in the shadow of a little stone church, was home to the town's priest and his family. Father Fuji, his wife and three children lived there with only two servants, the housekeeper who made their meals, and a girl who served the food and cleaned the house. There had been more servants, but when the youngest of the Fuji children had fallen ill they could no longer afford to keep more, and even two sometimes felt like too much when the frequent visits from the doctor were always so costly.

Yumiko sat by Yuuta's bed, listened to his laboured breathing, and tried not to fall asleep. She feared the comfort of rest, afraid that if she would fall asleep, when she woke she would be met with silence. As much as she wanted her little brother to not suffer any more, she could not pray for an end to his suffering. She could not let go of Yuuta, her little baby-brother.

One of the candles at the far end of the room burned out, and she turned her head towards the darkness now encasing the other side of the room. "Syusuke!" she cried out, noticing her brother standing midst the shadows. She had not heard the door open, or the footsteps in the corridor, had not heard anyone's breath besides her own steady, and Yuuta's pained one.

"When did you…?" she asked, her words trailing off as she saw the still closed door of the room. "No, how did you…" she shook her head, deciding it was not important. She must have fallen asleep after all, and Syusuke had arrived while she was sleeping. Angry at herself for falling asleep, Yumiko forced a smile on her face and looked at her brother. "How is Mr Atobe?"

"He is fine," Syusuke answered, and Yumiko frowned at the sound of his voice. There was something different in it. He sounded calmer than he had earlier during the day. "A friend of his is visiting."

"He must be pleased, then," Yumiko commented and was surprised by her brother's darkly amused chuckle. "You should go to bed, Syusuke," she said, suspecting her brother had drank too much. He always stank of wine when he returned from Atobe, but she'd never seen him drunk. "I will sit by Yuuta for the remainder of the night."

"No, you go, I'll stay," Syusuke insisted, his voice taking on a stubborn tone.

"I will not leave you alone with him, not when you're drunk," Yumiko chided. "Stay if you want, but I'll not let him be tended by a drunkard."

"I'm not drunk," Syusuke said, and Yumiko frowned a little. True, Syusuke did not sound it. But there was something wrong. "Go to bed sister, I'll watch over Yuuta. You know I'd never let anything happen to him. I would rather slit my own throat than let anything harm Yuuta."

"Don't say things like that Syusuke." The words flew automatically from her mouth and there was no heat behind them. She had tried, first, to speak them with more feeling when Syusuke spoke so passionately of Yuuta, but when some things were repeated often enough they became routine, and routine could rarely remain heated.

"But I mean it," Syusuke argued.

"I know you do," Yumiko answered. "But you still shouldn't say it."

"Why not? He is my brother!" Syusuke nearly yelled.

Yumiko chose to not answer. It was an old argument, and she was tired of it. She knew Syusuke never saw anything wrong with his devotion for his brother, but it had bothered Yumiko, and it still did. She had hoped that Atobe would have been enough of a diversion for Syusuke, but no matter how much the new friend mattered to Syusuke, their little brother would always be first in Syusuke's thoughts.

There was nothing wrong with it, really. It was normal for older siblings, especially brothers to be protective of their younger brother, but Syusuke's possessiveness and jealousy over Yuuta's attention went beyond that which was normal, and Yumiko had been scared that one day there would be more to it than just brotherly affection.

She was ashamed of her thoughts, but she could not rid herself of them. The way Syusuke would sometimes gaze at Yuuta, and the way he would glare after every other friend Yuuta had sent tremors of true fear coursing through Yumiko. Fear that one day Syusuke would do something that was wrong.

"You sound like Atobe," Syusuke spoke in a growling tone, and Yumiko turned her head sharply, ripping her gaze from Yuuta's resting form.

"I did not say anything," she spoke slowly.

"Oh." She saw Syusuke shrug. "I suppose I will have to pay attention to those kinds of things from now on."

A cold shiver ran through Yumiko.

"Perhaps I should have asked more about the creature I have now turned into. But I doubt I would have paid attention to anything he could have told me."

"What are you talking about?" Yumiko asked and stood from her chair so she could see her brother's face more clearly in the dim light of the few candles that were still lit.

"I have been given a gift, Yumiko." Syusuke's voice was as gentle as ever, but there was a darker edge to it now, one that had not been there before. Violence that made her fear. "A gift of eternal life. He gave me all I need. Now I never need to fear death or follow God's plan, I can make my own destiny along a path of darkness that holds strange and glorious beauty. And Yuuta will walk that path with me." Syusuke's voice sounded near breathless by the time he reached the end of his speech, and when he moved closer to the bed where Yuuta lay, terror filled Yumiko.

"Wait!" she yelled and ran between her brothers.

"You cannot prevent this Yumiko. I won't let you." Syusuke placed his hand on her chest and pushed, and frozen, Yumiko fell back on the bed, almost landing on Yuuta. Her hand over the sick boy's knees she stared up at what had once been her brother and now saw what she had not seen before.

His skin was deathly pale, and there was no rosy tint on his cheeks, yet he had just returned from the cold. Syusuke's lips, that had always been pale, seemed even paler now. He was like a ghost of his former self, and when Yumiko looked in to his eyes, she saw death in them.

"What has been done to you?" she whispered, her fingers searching for the cross that always hang around her neck. Syusuke's eyes flashed with anger when he saw the gesture, and he growled, his mouth drawing back and revealing something that made Yumiko let out a strangled sob. Her brother had fangs like an animal, a beast.

The sudden silence in the room was as loud as screaming to Yumiko's ears, the pause in the constant sound of pained and broken breathing nearly made her heart stop from fear. It was everything she had feared, that lack of sound in this small room.

Feet still hanging from the side of the bed she twisted her body so she could look at Yuuta. She stared at his pale face, his fever flushed cheeks and dry lips. And she sobbed with relief when Yuuta's chin was painted red from the blood he coughed, and lifted his eyelids to reveal grey eyes that were glassed with fever and pain. Not dead, not yet.

But before she could lift a calming hand to his forehead Syusuke was there, with a wet cloth, wiping away the blood and sweat from the boy's clammy skin.

"Brother?" Yuuta asked with a voice that sounded broken, drained of strength.

"Hush," Syusuke whispered, appearing as himself again. Any trace of the monster, the beast Yumiko had seen was gone, and all that was left was Yuuta's brother.

"Yumiko…?" Yuuta coughed again, drops of blood colouring his lips and pale face. They gleamed in the room's scarce light, and Yumiko, her eyes fixed on Syusuke's face, saw his lips twitch and nostrils shiver. "What's happened?"

"Nothing you should worry about," Syusuke answered with a gentle smile and a soft voice. "Go back to sleep. I'll watch over you." Syusuke caressed Yuuta's forehead until the sick boy's eyes closed. When they did, Syusuke leaned down to kiss him goodnight, like any other night. But when his lips were lifted from the forehead he did not raise his head.

Unable to move Yumiko stared as Syusuke kissed away the blood, fingers caressing Yuuta's neck and shoulders. She stared wide eyed, shocked as the fingers hold became tighter and they dug into the skin and the nails drew more blood from under the nearly translucent skin.

"Stop," Yumiko had not realized she was crying until she tasted the salt of tears in her mouth. "Don't hurt him, please!" Her voice had become nothing like her own, filled with fear and sorrow, terror.

Syusuke did not move from his position over Yuuta, but opened his eyes and turned them to look at her. "Don't interfere," he growled the threat. "I'll kill you."

"You can't do this!" she screamed and tried to pull Syusuke away from Yuuta, of the bed by taking hold of the back of his coat.

Syusuke struck and hit Yumiko on the mouth with the back of his hand. The taste of blood filled Yumiko's mouth when her lip was caught between Syusuke's hand and her own teeth. But she did not remain on her back, could not when Yuuta was in danger.

She turned to her stomach, crawled up to her knees and threw herself on Syusuke's back, screaming, pulling on his hair. She succeeded in dragging Syusuke from the bed, but that was all. Syusuke turned, lifted her from the floor to his arms and dragged her away from the bed.

Yumiko screamed and the door of the sick room opened. In less time than a second Yumiko was thrown from the room at the person that had opened it and the door was locked after them. Screaming and crying she threw herself at the door, banging on it with her fists, trying to pry it open.

"Syusuke! Don't hurt him, please! Syusuke please…" she sobbed and slid on the ground, her body pressed against the door. "Don't' hurt him," she whispered on final time, face pressed against the wood.

"Yumiko? What is going on in here? Why are you screaming such things at Syusuke?" their mother shouted next to her ear. "Where is Yuuta? Yumiko? Yumiko, answer me!"

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"Brother?" Yuuta's asked from the bed. "Why did you…" he had to stop and cough before he could speak again. "Why did you hurt Yumiko?"

"Don't worry about it," Syusuke answered, turning back to Yuuta. "I told you to sleep didn't I? It won't hurt if you sleep."

"What won't hurt?" Yuuta forced himself into a sitting position on the bed. "Were you going to suffocate me in my sleep with a pillow? I can live with the pain, I don't need your pity!" Yuuta yelled, angry and hurt that his brother did not think him strong enough to handle the pain.

"No, I wasn't going to kill you, I could never do that," Syusuke answered and hurried to sit on the bed.

"Then what?" Yuuta struggled to not let his eyelids drop, tried not to faint. In the past weeks he had done nothing but slept past the fever and pain, had only woken to cough up blood and now he wanted to be aware enough to see Syusuke as clearly as he had before.

Before he had gotten sick Syusuke had been the one everyone always spoke of, the one that came first in everyone's thoughts. And it was still Syusuke everyone spoke of when they came to sit beside his sickbed, to tell him how much Yuuta's illness hurt Syusuke, how hopeless Syusuke was. When Yuuta was dying, it was Syusuke everyone worried about.

The banging behind the door that had stopped for a moment started again and they heard their father yell, "Syusuke, open the door! Yumiko is frightened, we are frightened! Let us in to see Yuuta!"

Syusuke looked at the door, and Yuuta at his brother. "Why wont' you open the door?" Yuuta asked and was echoed by their mother from the other side of the door.

"Open the door Syusuke!"

At the beginning of his sickness Syusuke had looked at him with desperate pleading, like he expected Yuuta to say or do something that would make it all better. He was the older brother that had always protected and taken care of him, but when he really needed his older brother Syusuke crumbled.

It had gotten better a few weeks ago when Atobe had arrived. Fuji's smile when he came to see Yuuta seemed to have regained its old cheeriness. And Yuuta knew he should have been happy for his brother. Instead he'd been angry that Syusuke was happy. Syusuke shouldn't have been happy, shouldn't be allowed to want to be with anyone else.

"I want to show you something," Syusuke said and drew a knife from his belt.

"Where did you get that?" Yuuta drew back, lifted his gaze from the blade to Syusuke's eyes and shivered at the alien look in them, at the strange eagerness and happiness in Syusuke's smile.

"Where I got it isn't as important as what I'm going to do with it," Syusuke answered and after making sure Yuuta was watching, brought the blade down on his skin, a few inches above his wrist and pressed down.

"Brother!" Yuuta screamed as the blood spread on the creamy white skin.

"Watch," Syusuke whispered and dropped the knife down on the sheets, not caring about the crimson stains on the white fabric.

"Are you crazy?" Yuuta hissed, pulled on his blanket and tried to wrap it around the bleeding wound, but Syusuke took hold of his hands.

"Just watch, Yuuta," Syusuke whispered and Yuuta ripped his gaze from Syusuke's eyes to the wound. There was still blood on the skin and on the sheets, but only a scar left of the wound, and as he watched even that vanished.

"How?" Yuuta asked and took hold of Syusuke's arm with both his hands and slid his fingers against the skin, smearing the blood. "It wasn't a trick, I saw it, the knife…" Yuuta took the knife and tried to cut his own hand but Syusuke stopped him.

"Don't," he said, holding Yuuta's hand. "You'll hurt yourself."

Yuuta suddenly realized that he skin under his touch was cold. Not cold like the skin of someone that had been outside for hours, but the coldness you could feel when you touched a stone that had been lying for hours in the shadow where the sun couldn't reach it.

Amazed by this discovery Yuuta tightened his grip around his brother's wrist and was startled again when he noticed that besides the coldness, there was something else in Syusuke that reminded him of a stone. He could feel the muscles and the bones under his touch as Syusuke tensed, but he could not feel that which should have been there, was always there even when Syusuke fell asleep by his bed, his breath warm against Yuuta's arm.

A heart beat. That is what Yuuta could not feel under his touch.

"You're dead?" Yuuta asked, looking up at his brother's eyes, trying to read them, but he couldn't. Never could. "How could you die before me? Why?" Yuuta was furious. Syusuke was always better than him at everything, was always more loved and liked, always got everywhere before him. Yuuta could never beat him at anything. It didn't matter if they were running or trying to catch fish from the river. Syusuke would always have he biggest and best catch, would always be at the finish line before him.

"I did it for you, Yuuta," Syusuke said softly, twisting their hands so Syusuke was holding Yuuta's fisted hands between his palms.

"That's your excuse for everything," Yuuta scowled and when another coughing fit tore through him he bent over and was forced to lean on Syusuke for support. As his body convulsed, his brother's arms slid around him and held him tightly. "How could you dying help me? If you're dead, what good are you to me?" Yuuta whispered when the coughing passed.

"Don't you see?" Syusuke answered and though Yuuta couldn't see it, he heard the smile that was on his brother's lips. "I'm dead, but I'm still here with you."

"How?" Yuuta asked, closing his eyes and letting the world spin.

"I'll show you."

Yuuta tried to scream when he felt the pain but was too weak to let out a sound any stronger than a whimper. The pain soon passed, but he still felt weak and tired. Too tired to stay awake.

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Still holding Yuuta in his arms Fuji laid them both down on the bed, resting Yuuta's head gently on the pillows. He placed his hand over the two round, pale wounds on the neck, surprised there was no blood on the skin. But he had drank it all, revelled in the sweet taste of it, surprised at his own hunger, at how much he had wanted to tear harder into the skin, bite deeper, to have more.

In the blood he had for the first time truly known his brother. In the thick blood he had felt Yuuta's stubbornness, his quick temper and the will to live, to fight. Through the taste of the blood he had fallen in love with his brother, with his strength, his unyielding spirit.

"What do I do now?" Fuji asked, distressed. He had not thought to ask Sanada how he had done it. Had he just slid his wrist and forced the blood down Fuji's throat? All Fuji remembered was the taste of blood.

The knife was still there, at the edge of the bed. Its blade caught the flame of the candle and reflected the light into his eyes. "I'll try that. I'll cut myself and let you drink," Fuji said, rose and did as he had said. He pushed the blade deeply against his wrist and gasped, startled at the strength in which the blood surged from the wound. It soaked the white sheets, Yuuta's shirt, both their clothes, coloured them both and the bed red. It pooled on Yuuta's throat, his parted lips and eyelids.

Fuji dropped the blade and almost fearful that the blood would stop flowing soon and the wound would heal, he pressed his bleeding wrist against Yuuta's mouth, trembling. "Come back to me Yuuta. Don't let God win and take you."

But Yuuta lay still. Not even his throat moved. "Yuuta!" Fuji screamed in agony.

"Syusuke? What s going on?" Their father screamed. "Syusuke!"

"Open the door!"

"No!" Fuji screamed again, climbed off the bed and fell on the floor. He stayed there with his hands and knees, his head hanging, eyes squeezed shut. He waited for tears, but none came. "Can't I cry anymore?" he sobbed, craving for the feel of tears on his cheeks. "Let me weep for him!"

Too absorbed by his grief Fuji did not see Yuuta sit up.

Ignoring his brother's shivering form on the floor Yuuta stared ahead of him at the room that had been all he had seen of the world for the last few months. Before, when he had not yet been so sick, he had sat outside in the garden, insisted on being out even in the freezing winter. He had wanted to go outside even after he had grown too sick, but his family had no allowed it and the doctor had said it was too dangerous.

Yuuta stared down at his shirt, his nostrils shivered at the new seductive scent in the air. He recognized the scent of blood, having coughed it up so many times. A familiar scent, but stronger and suddenly so very alluring. It had never been a thing to crave for. It had been a thing of fear, to see blood on the sheets, on his skin.

Yuuta lifted the blood soaked sheet to his nose and sniffed. He pressed it against his nose and inhaled, closing his eyes as the euphoria hit him.

He turned his head to the hunched body on his left, reached out his hand to touch it, when his eyes saw the knife. Blinking, he took it. He remembered seeing it cut his brother's flesh, drawing blood. Remembered the lack of any wound. Curious, Yuuta pressed the blade against his arm, hissed at the sharp pain and watched with amazed eyes as the skin knit itself together again.

"Yuuta?" his brother asked from the floor, mouth open, revealing sharp canine teeth in his mouth. Yuuta search with his tongue and found ones just like them in his own mouth.

"Oh Yuuta, I thought I didn't do it right, that I was too late," Syusuke muttered, climbed up from the floor to the bed and threw his arms around Yuuta. "I'm so happy," he whispered against Yuuta's neck.

Yuuta embraced his brother with one arm, holding the knife in his other hand. He stared at it with narrowed eyes, pressed his face against Syusuke's neck and closed his eyes when the scent overwhelmed him again. He wanted to sink his teeth into Syusuke's neck, wanted to taste it in his mouth that alluring blood, feel it rolling over his tongue, swallow it, feed.

"You've turned me into a monster," Yuuta whispered. "I can feel the darkness whisper. I hear your blood calling me, the monster in me beckoning me to feed, to kill." His arm tightened around Syusuke and his eyes sought out the blade in his hand. "It wants to kill you all."

"Yuuta," Syusuke whispered, embracing him even tighter, not hearing what he said, happy only that Yuuta could speak without having to stop to cough.

"But I won't let it," Yuuta continued. "I won't let it hurt them, my family. I love them." Yuuta pulled away from his brother and brought the knife closer Syusuke's throat. "But you're not my brother anymore, you're just a monster that killed me," Yuuta declared and slid open Syusuke's throat and watched with wide eyes and an eager grin as Syusuke tried to cover the wound with his hands, to stop the blood from flowing. "I know it'll heal soon, I saw what happened to your arm, but I'm not going to wait." Yuuta struck the knife deep into Syusuke's chest where he knew the heart was. "I'm going to destroy you because of what you did to me."

Syusuke fell back, his eyes wide, but there was no fear in them, nothing but confusion. Yuuta wanted Syusuke to be afraid of him. "You couldn't just let me die, be free of you! Why couldn't you let me go? Can't you see I hate you, how you cling to me, how you never let me be? Have my own life!" Yuuta screamed and brought the blade down again, but this time it only hit the mattress, not flesh.

Syusuke had rolled away from the bed and hands still around his throat he turned and jumped through the window. He landed on the ground outside, shards of glass surrounding him, cutting into his flesh. Not caring about them Syusuke ran, Yuuta's hateful words still ringing in his ears.

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Fuji had left more than an hour ago, but still Sanada and Atobe sat in the same room, neither of them speaking. They had not said a word since Fuji had left.

Sanada had not minded it at first, the silence. He could usually go for hours without feeling the need to speak. But Atobe's silences always meant something. They were never just about staying silent. When Atobe did not speak, it was because he was thinking of something, or he was mad, not because he had nothing to say. Atobe always had something to say.

He would have asked Atobe what was wrong, if he had not already known, and thought it childish. It was undignified, ridiculous. So Atobe had lost an argument. It was not the first, and not likely the last time it would happen.

A slash of pain brought Sanada to his knees and he gritted his teeth to not scream aloud. Agony, torment flashed through him, pain that was not all physical. Immense sorrow and grief flooded him and he wanted to weep for a loss that was not his.

"I'm still too closely bound to him," Sanada hissed, a hand over his chest.

"Is he still a live?" Atobe's mocking voice asked.

Sanada grunted and pushed himself up. "I would not still feel the pain if he were dead," he answered.

"Then he will be here soon."

Sanada heard Atobe's foot steps walk away from the room, but did not turn to see him leave. He was certain Atobe would return. And he did, a cloak wrapped around him, a hat in his gloved hands, and Kabaji standing behind him.

"We are leaving?" Sanada asked. "How can we leave? Now, when he is hurting?"

Atobe smiled coldly and Sanada realized his mistake in assuming they would leave together. But before either of them could say any more, Fuji, covered in his own blood, hands holding his torn throat staggered inside through the back door.

"I warned you this would happen," Atobe said and gestured towards Fuji. "And that I would not help you with picking up the pieces. You made him. This is your problem."

"He is your friend."

"And your monster!" Atobe yelled. "This happened for one reason, and one reason only! You listened to Yukimura and not me!"

"He couldn't have known this would happen!" Sanada yelled back.

"Maybe not exactly this, no." Atobe's voice was calmer now and his face colder. "But he knew it would end with something like this. To presume he would think otherwise, is the same as calling him a fool. He is no fool." Atobe stared at Sanada, hoping that he would not need to say out loud the rest of that sentence. That even though he did not think Yukimura a fool, the same could not be said of everyone.

Atobe's eyes landed on the figure that now lay on the floor, oblivious to the world. He no longer felt anything, but perhaps a little pity towards the wretched creature. Fuji had been his friend, but his friend had died tonight when Sanada had taken his blood, and Atobe had no interest in knowing the monster that had taken over his friend's body, and if he still held one, soul.

But he mourned for the loss of a friend. Fuji had lived in a fantasy, thinking that he could somehow create a fairytale ending for his brother through death and violence. The fate of Fuji and his brother reminded Atobe of his own brother, how much hatred there had been between them. The hate between Fuji and his brother had rested deep under the surface, festering inside the younger one's soul. It would have stayed there, hidden, if Fuji had only allowed things to go their natural way. Had Fuji never asked for the blood, had Yukimura not been so consumed by his desire to tarnish everything in Atobe's life he held dear, if Sanada was not a blind fool…

If only…

"You can have the house, if you want it," Atobe said. "The basement is well protected, but they might find it. But if you wish to risk it, you are welcome to it. Though I think this is the first place Yuuta will search for his brother."

Followed by Kabaji Atobe left the house he had dreaded to call home, knowing a day like this would come. The more time he spent in it, the more content he felt, and the happier he became, the more certain he was that Yukimura would soon do something to make an end of it.

In front of his house stood a carriage with no windows and Atobe climbed inside, telling Kabaji, "Let's return to London."

Kabaji nodded and closed the carriage door, and as they began to move, Atobe laughed bitterly, knowing Yukimura had won again. He had taken from Atobe something he had valued greatly. It would not be easy to cope with the loss of Fuji. But he would survive and in time the wounds, though now raw, would heal.

And there was something else, something he had seen on Sanada's face when Atobe had mentioned Yukimura one more time before leaving. The tiny beginnings of a crack in Sanada's unshakeable trust in Yukimura.

Fuji's pain had been terrible to watch, and Sanada had felt it as if it were his own. Sanada could not believe that to Yukimura all that pain had been just a means to an end, a way to get Atobe to return to him.

Yukimura might have won this time, but in doing so he had sacrificed something he could not afford to lose. "How many more of these little mistakes will you make to keep me in line, Yukimura?" Atobe asked of the ceiling and laughed.

Finally, after two years he had finally made a crack in the bond that tied Yukimura and Sanada together. And he could thank Yukimura for it.

He would rip the two apart and watch Yukimura crumble without Sanada there to support him. And without Yukimura holding the restrains of his power Sanada could burn bright, brighter than the sun itself, and Atobe would be there, basking in its warmth.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **A year. I think that's a long enough of a wait for the next section. =)

There's a side story to this on my profile, _Tempter in the Dark_ that's all about Yuuta and how he handles being a vampire. It has Mizuki.

No Beta, so comments and critique are all very much welcome and appreciated. I'll even take a hello.

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Atobe stood on the Echizen house rooftop, eyes closed, head tilted, listening. He tried not to think of the two by the temple, because thinking of those two together had never made him feel anything but resentment. At one time he had thought to be able to use their bond of maker and fledgling to his own advantage, but the fruits of that ploy had not been very succulent, or long lasting. Yukimura had a tendency to suck the joy out of everything Atobe tried to embrace and nurture.

Atobe's mouth twisted and he suppressed a furious growl, not wanting to reveal even to himself how much the simple memory of that man could still affect him.

Yukimura. The cause of all his misery and irritation, even when two centuries had passed after he had been burnt to a crisp. The man's ghost would never cease to haunt or torment him.

When an un-expectantly strong gush of wind pushed against him and forced him to move his footing on the slippery roof, Atobe decided that staying on the rooftop, trying to keep his balance on the steep ridge was too troublesome, so he swirled on his heels and walked to the edge. Without even glancing down he jumped and landed on the ground with enough force that his feet left an impression on the grass that was still wet from the rain. He knew that the footprints would look suspicious to anyone who discovered them, but at the moment he did not care. He was more concerned with the pair standing still and now silent, on the temple steps.

He brought forth the power that always coiled just beneath his skin, like an uncontrollable whirlwind and forced it to the surface, bent it to his will in a struggle that would have broken a weaker creature. But though Atobe was not an ancient vampire born on the age of pharaohs or heretic gods, he had been made by one and he had fed on the blood of ancients. He was stronger than a vampire his age should be and he wielded that enormous power gained by violence and hatred with the strength of his will alone. Others, young vampires such as Atobe who had gained power through the blood of others and not through the passage of time, were too weak of will, to control the strength that flooded to their veins, along with the blood of their ancient victims. But Atobe had never been weak and had from the beginning of his life refused to bend to another's will. It did not matter whether the thing attempting to control him was another vampire, a human or sheer power. He was born to lead, not to be a follower.

With deliberate ease he dismissed both Fuji and Sanada, knowing that the power that now rolled of him would keep them at a distance. Neither was weak and Sanada could easily match him in strength and even surpass him in experience. Yet Atobe had no doubts that should they ever challenge each other he would win, if only because Sanada was not be willing to end Atobe's life to save his own.

Atobe nearly snorted aloud at his last thought. Life? Since when had he begun to see this parasitic, hellish existence as life?

The answer came almost as soon as the question entered his mind. The reason for his sudden shift in attitude was the boy. The way he wanted, yearned to be all and more than he could, how he lived every moment to its fullest, hungered so deeply. It still amazed him that the boy wanted so much to conquer his fears that he was willing to become his own worst nightmare, that the boy would even desire it.

He turned his attention on the dark and silent house and felt unease slowly creep in to his mind. The vacant house, the empty rooms that even the family's cat had abandoned, worried him with all their implications. There should be people in the house, parents that were worried and angry at their child and a boy; annoyed with his overprotected parents, locked in his room with his adored pet. The boy might have been annoyed or even furious, but he would have been safe.

Atobe still regained a small hope that the absence of the whole family did not mean the boy was in peril but that they had all spontaneously decided spend the night somewhere else. He did not think it very likely, but he still dared to hope.

Atobe walked through the back terrace's sliding doors and into the family's living room, where he was embraced by the warm atmosphere of a loving family. It was created by pictures on the walls and dressers, art work made by a child that a proud parent had hung on the wall next to a winning trophy from a tournament; cat toys left on the floor and a forgotten cereal bowl next to a school book on the coffee table. The objects in the room, the very walls were immersed with the affection the people living in this house felt for each other.

He could easily picture the boy and his family in this room and the thought of it had him smiling fondly. He almost wished he had never crossed paths with the boy, so that the scene in his mind could still have been a possibility. But the boy's fate would now forever be shadowed by darkness. Even if it were possible for him to remove his presence from the boy's life without endangering him, he would not do it, for the simple reason that he did not want to.

Furious rage, a flood of jealous possessiveness filled Atobe as he imagined someone else sinking their fangs in the boy's neck; drinking his blood, tasting his skin, having him groan and shiver at their touch. Those were reactions only he was allowed to arouse in the boy, and only he had the right to decide the boy's fate.

It had been so long since he had felt emotions this intense, had dared to care for anyone. It was dangerous to get involved; to distance one self from the role of a monster that preyed upon humans as if they were nothing more than cattle, bred to satisfy his hunger. Feelings were dangerous, and love the most damning of them all.

It was not yet love, what he felt for the boy, but Atobe recognized the symptoms from his time with Fuji, when the man had still been just an enchanting boy that had sat by his feet. He had been fascinated by Fuji, perhaps even been on the verge of falling in love with him. There was no denying that the possessiveness that he now felt for Ryoma was similar to the one he had felt with Fuji, but this was different, stronger. Then he had been too weak to stand up against Yukimura, he hadn't possessed the strength or the knowledge to defy him. Now, it was different. Now he was the master, whose power only a few would dare to challenge.

The one creeping in to the house through the front door was not among them, even if he was a child of the same decade. The gap in their powers was larger, than the one between the years they had spent wandering the Earth.

Kirihara's appearance was still that of a disgruntled youth, like it had been on the day Atobe had first met him. He had always worn clothing that was second hand or worn. Most of what he owned he stripped from his victims. He would always look like a street urchin, no matter the era.

Before Atobe could ask what he was doing there, Kirihara spoke. "So, tell me, have the years turned you stupider, or has the world around you just grown really fucking clever?" He asked, waving a rolled up newspaper in his hand.

"What are you talking about?" Atobe growled and made a gesture to take the newspaper from Kirihara's hand, but the grinning little beast pulled the folded paper from his reach.

"Right after you tell me how normal it's for this Yagyuu guy to screw up. He someone you trust?" Atobe snorted. The idea that he would trust anyone, let alone someone like Yagyuu was ridiculous.

"So that's a no, then?" Kirihara cocked an eyebrow and snickered. "Why the hell would you let him take care of the bodies, then?"

Atobe frowned, for a moment not understanding the question. Then his actions from last night, his orders to Yagyuu returned in a flash that was almost too colourful and vibrant to seem real. He saw it in his mind almost like he would in a dream, would he still be able to dream. But he had lost the comfort and torment of dreams when he became cursed with the blood. His days were silent. When he closed his eyes at the rising of the sun, only darkness ruled in his mind.

"I wouldn't," Atobe answered, shocking Kirihara enough that he managed to take the newspaper. It was the evening's paper, only a few hours old, the smell of ink was still fresh on the paper. The biggest news and the boldest headlines were of idols and other celebrities, gossip and sports. He did not find what he was looking for, until he had almost read through the whole paper.

It was a small article, reporting the deaths of a man in his forties that had worked as a janitor and of a nameless foreigner who had suffered from weeks of continuous and brutal torture. No such torture marks were reported on the janitor's body, but the article said that the cause of death had been two small, deep wounds to the neck.

Atobe wrinkled the newspaper in his hands and resisted the urge to set it a flame. It would not do for him to burn down the house when he was still inside.

"You trying to tell me it wasn't you who told me to shove those corpses in to that guy's trunk last night?" Kirihara was looking at him with more alertness now, as if Atobe would implode at any moment.

"No, that was me," Atobe answered, trying not to grind his teeth together. "Just not my…" he snarled, and clenched his jaw, forcing himself to say the words, no matter how humiliating it was to reveal the truth. "Not my will."

Kirihara laughed, and it sounded almost accidental, like he hadn't meant to. "Someone been inside your head?"

"Obviously," Atobe snapped, and then closed in on Kirihara, forcing him to step back so he was almost pressed against the wall. "Tell me again how it could not have been Yanagi? There is no one else who could have done it."

Kirihara stared at him with his eyes wild and startled. "You never had any trouble keeping him out of your head. I remember. He didn't exactly take it graciously."

"That was centuries ago. I've grown stronger, why couldn't he have?" Atobe was no longer even trying to control his rage. He held his hand over Kirihara's throat, fingers curled, preparing to sink them into Kirihara's flesh with the slightest hint of defiance. "Why are you so determined to convince me he isn't the one behind this, that he hasn't taken Ryoma?"

"Ryoma?" Kirihara shouted, his head snapping back and hitting the wall. "What the hell does that kid have to do with this?"

"Are you really so blind that you do not see what surrounds you?" Atobe yelled in return. "No one is here, and that should not be the case! This house is not meant to be abandoned!"

Kirihara gaped at him, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were not sure whether to form it into a smirk or a grimace. Finally he spluttered and pushed Atobe away from him with surprising ease. "Do you think I care a fuck about any of that?" he nearly screamed. "The only thing that interests me is what you're going to do about these!" He snatched the newspaper Atobe was still holding and shoved it at Atobe's chest. "We can't let them get hold of those bodies! Who the hell knows what they can get out of them if they suddenly decide to look a little more carefully!"

"What is there to be get from them?" Atobe asked, flipping a strand of hair form his face. "It is not like we posses any living tissue. Thinking that science could explain us is ridiculous."

"So you're fine with it?"

"It is not my concern, what happens to those bodies," Atobe answered. "My only concern is Yanagi. Why is he doing this?"

"I think I have an answer for you," Fuji's soft voice cut through the air like a cold blade. They turned to see not only Fuji, but also Sanada stand by the sliding doors Atobe had opened. "I wouldn't swear to it, but it's a very strong possibility."

Before any of them could ask what he meant, the sound of an explosion in the distance drew their attention. From the living room window they could see the red of the fire reflect of the clouds and Atobe frowned at the extent of it. "The bodies will no longer be a problem," he said.

"What do you mean?" Kirihara asked, tearing his eyes from the distant fire.

"That, if I am not mistaken, is the morgue burning and with it most of the hospital," Atobe told him. "Though what moron would burn down a hospital, I have no idea."

"Maybe we should find out," Kirihara suggested. "At least one fucking thing less that I don't know shit about."

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Niou stared at the fire that he had planned on being small and contained, but that had turned out being huge and out of control. It had already spread to two of the surrounding buildings and there was no sign of its force lessening.

He held back the sudden guilt at all the people that had died and were going to die because of this. He was a vampire, he shouldn't care about human lives.

But taking one life for the sake of survival hardly compared to this destruction. People were burning alive, suffocating and were crushed under falling concrete and steel. If the fire was not contained soon it might spread out through the whole city.

He looked at Yagyuu, standing by his side on the flat roof and then at Marui behind them. Neither of them looked any more pleased than he did, but out of all of them Yagyuu looked less human, with no signs of distress or horror showing on his face. Niou was not psychic, he had no ability to hear thoughts and he'd never wanted it but right now he wished he could. He wanted to know Yagyuu felt something, when he watched the fire eat its way through the buildings and listened to the distant screams.

"So, how you like your funeral pyre?" Niou asked, one eyebrow cocked, smirking.

Yagyuu turned slowly to regard him with a smile that was nearly chilling. It wasn't a pleased or even a content expression. Niou figured Yagyuu was smiling, because it was the expression that demanded the least amount of effort.

"It's certainly impressive." Yagyuu's voice was just as cool as his smile. "I doubt anyone will forget the day I died."

"But they might forget that you died," Niou answered, turning away from Yagyuu, no longer sure if he could keep looking at him without demanding that he show some kind of reaction. "How the hell did this happen?" He made the question to himself, but Marui took it as an insult.

"You want well thought out plans? You give me time to plan them!" Marui yelled. "If I'd have time, I would've known about the chemicals and the explosion would've never happened or at least it wouldn't have taken the whole damn building with it!"

"No one's blaming you," Niou kept his voice calm and back turned to Marui. "None of us thought this through." Yagyuu touched his shoulder but when Niou turned to face him, Yagyuu wasn't looking at him. His attention was on something behind them and Niou followed his gaze.

Illuminated by the distant fire, four men, all whom Niou knew to be like him, vampires, stood on the other side of the roof. There was only one whose face was in the light, not hidden by the shadows and even though he had never before seen him, Niou knew enough to name him. And it was his knowledge of the barer of that name that made him push Yagyuu behind him and reach out to place his hand on Marui's shoulder, in the foolish hope that he could somehow keep them safe.

Atobe wasn't the tolerant type. And Niou had knowingly defied him by inhabiting the city Atobe had claimed as his territory. The fact that Niou had been born and raised in this city made no difference, he knew that and that is why he hadn't returned after he had been turned. He had never intended to return but years passed and when he and Marui had lost two members of their little group at the same time, the thought of Tokyo had come to him. He'd thought that the familiar streets and places could soothe his grief. He talked Marui in to coming with him by filling his head with glorious tales of the city and somehow he and Marui had managed to stay in Tokyo, remain undetected for years. Until today; when he'd thought it a good idea to announce their presence by lighting a friendly bonfire in the middle of the city.

Something knocked him down on the concrete and when Niou's eyes could focus again, he saw a figure of a smiling man with fair hair and blue eyes standing over him, one finger pressed under his curved lips. The man held Yagyuu with one arm, fingers wrapped around his throat. Yagyuu was still, hands by his sides and he would have looked perfectly at ease, if his heart had not been beating like a frightened rabbit's.

It was Marui Niou sought out next but his eyes met another figure that made him stare in silence. Between Atobe and a man who Niou could not name but whose presence radiated power, stronger and older than what he felt from Atobe, stood Akaya. The same Akaya that had been the fourth member of their little group for almost a decade ago, the one he and Marui had searched for even after they'd understood that neither he nor Jackal would ever come back. And here he was now, with Atobe and two other giants. And stranger yet, Akaya did not look frightened. He stood among the giants as if he was one of them.

"Akaya!" Marui yelled, voice filled with shock and joy. "You're alive! Where the hell have you been?" he was smiling, relieved.

"Friends of yours, Kirihara?" Atobe asked, with a smile that was almost fond but with a voice that was filled with doubt.

"Hey, I have friends!" Akaya growled and glared at Atobe.

"Where's Jackal?" Niou yelled, wild hope suddenly springing alive in him. If Akaya was alive, then maybe Jackal was too. "You disappeared at the same time, you have to know what happened to him!"

Akaya stiffened at his shout, his eyes darting guiltily to Marui's. Then he shrugged and grimaced. "Okay, I had friends," he muttered, loud enough for them all to hear and causing Atobe to suddenly explode into laughter. The man beside Akaya frowned, the expression turning his already menacing and dark presence even more hostile.

Niou looked behind him, to see if the one holding Yagyuu would give him an explanation but he only received another empty smile. In another time he would have been fooled into thinking the expression gentle but experience had thought him to see behind the masks people wore. The man was amused but there was nothing benign in the amusement. It was the kind of amusement people gained from seeing other's suffer.

Niou suppressed his first instinct to jump at the man's throat and free Yagyuu, when the man tightened his fingers around Yagyuu's throat, as if reading his thoughts. "Don't worry, you'll get to hear the punch line, soon enough," the man told him, and then cocked his head and widened his smile, attempting to look reassuring. He only succeeded in making Niou even more worried.

"What happened to Jackal? Akaya!" Marui's scream made Niou turned his attention back on the other four.

"Relieve the poor boy of his misery, Kirihara and tell him where his dear friend is." Atobe's voice was bored, but his eyes danced with glee and he was still trying to suppress his laughter.

"Atobe," the third man spoke, sounding both exasperated and chastising.

"Are we not allowed to be amused, Sanada?" Atobe asked, spreading his arms. "You must be just as curious as I am to hear the tale of these little friends of Kirihara's."

"Kirihara Akaya," Niou whispered to himself and looked at Akaya with new horror. That name was one he had never linked with the temperamental and unstable brat that had spent more than three years together with him, Marui and Jackal. He had thought the name Akaya just a strange coincidence, nothing more. He would have never imagined that the brat he considered almost like a younger brother could be centuries older than him. Akaya had seemed weaker, nowhere near as powerful as him and he had been a vampire for over a decade then. "Kirihara, Atobe," Niou listed out loud. "And that's Sanada, but you," he turned to look at the smiling man. "Who're you?"

The man closed his eyes and that made his face less edgier and softened the smile on his face, but the hand that held Yagyuu rose and lifted him of the roof concrete roof. Surprised and frightened, Yagyuu rose to stand on the tips of his shoes and lifted his arms to the hand on his throat.

"Wouldn't that make me Yanagi, then?" The man asked, still effortlessly holding Yagyuu up in the air.

"No, you're not him," Niou said.

The man opened his eyes again, and the sharp edge was back in his smile. "Odd, that you would know that."

The threat that had never really lessened was suddenly multiplied and Niou almost choked on the paralysing fear that gripped him. Worried that the man would take it out on Yagyuu, he got to his feet and reached out for the sole human on that rooftop. He suddenly had the warm and thankfully living and conscious body thrown against him. With his arms around Yagyuu Niou stumbled back but managed to keep them both standing.

But when he thought they had been granted momentary peace, he found that the man had simply thrown them to the arms of another threat.

A cold hand was pressed under his chin and he was pulled against a solid chest. His head was bent back and Niou found himself staring up at ice blue eyes, that's fire contradicted with the coldness they radiated. "And how is it that you know what Yanagi looks like?" A lie sprang up to his mind, but Atobe shook his head as if foreseeing it. "And that will not do. You know precisely what he looks like, don't you? You could in fact draw a portrait of him if I asked you to and it would undoubtedly bear uncanny resemblance to the model."

"Never was much of a painter." Niou grinned through the terror and prepared for the pain by closing his eyes and pressing Yagyuu's head against his chest. He hoped there was some way out of this. But since the chances of that happening were pretty slim, he figured that dying while embracing Yagyuu was the best he could hope for.

Niou felt Yagyuu's fingers tighten their grip on his side, grasping at his shirt. "Are you an idiot?" Yagyuu asked, voice muffled as he spoke with his mouth pressed against Niou's shirt. "Tell him what he wants to know."

Niou opened his eyes and looked down at the top of Yagyuu's head. He loosened his hold, letting Yagyuu lift his face and look at him. "You don't understand," Niou said, trying to make is voice express the sheer magnitude of what Yagyuu was asking him to do. "One word and we'll all be killed."

"And what do you think they'll do to us?" Yagyuu asked and glanced over Niou's shoulder at Atobe who'd taken his hand from Niou's face and moved back, perhaps knowing that Yagyuu had the best chance of getting Niou to talk. "We can handle that when the time comes but if you don't tell him what he wants to know now, we won't get the chance. I'm not ready to die, Niou-kun, not after-"

Yagyuu turned to look behind them at the raging fire. Hearing Yagyuu's voice waver Niou finally had the proof he'd wanted to see, that the destruction of the hospital had affected Yagyuu just as much as himself.

"Not after that. I did that to ensure my safety, I will not let it be for nothing. I refuse to let your stupidity kill me."

Niou grunted and narrowed his eyes. He refused to look at the scene behind Yagyuu but could not escape the orange and yellow light of the flames, or ignore the sounds, the sirens, the frantic screaming and the noise of stone and steel falling apart and cracking. They had caused that, it was not just Yagyuu's cross to bear. But if what they had set out to accomplish, Yagyuu's safety was not achieved, all the destruction would be for nothing.

He looked behind him at Marui, who'd torn his eyes away from Akaya to look at him. Glancing cautiously at Atobe, Niou grasped Yagyuu's shoulder and walked over to Marui, trying all the while to keep his attention in all that presented a threat. He knew from the way Marui frowned at him that he didn't understand why Niou seemed wary of even Akaya. He shouldn't be surprised by that, not everyone had heard the tales he had.

When he reached Marui, Niou reached out and pulled the slightly shorter man against his side and held him tightly. "You'll let us leave, if I tell you?" he asked, focusing on Atobe.

"I will consider it," Atobe answered and walked around them, stopping by Kirihara and Sanada's side and motioning for the third man to join them. "But you can be assured that if you stubbornly remain silent, you will not leave this roof. Well, perhaps one of you will but that is only because his remains cannot be swept away by the wind." He smiled after his words and looked at Yagyuu.

"Don't tell them anything Niou," Marui grunted from between his clenched teeth. "Not before they tell us what's happened to Jackal."

"Marui," Niou warned but Marui shrugged his arm off and turned to glare at him.

"Don't you want to know?" he screamed. "It's been almost ten years since they both disappeared! I thought they were both dead or together but Akaya's right there and Jackal's not!"

Niou bit his lip, not wanting to say what he thought had happened to Jackal now that he knew cute little Akaya wasn't as young and powerless as he'd thought him to be.

They heard Atobe sigh in exasperation but it was Sanada's deep and low voice that said, "Tell them, Kirihara."

Kirihara snarled at Sanada "Why do you care if I tell them or not?"

"They have the right to know what happened to their companion. Now tell them." Sanada ordered.

"Fine!" Kirihara shouted, sounding frustrated but when he looked at Marui his grin was cheery, yet too wide and there was something in the tenseness of his shoulders that revealed how nervous he was. "Well you know he followed me. All the way to England, which I thought was pretty fucking impressive, considering he wasn't that much older than you two." Kirihara scratched the back of his head and continued with the story in a lighter tone. "Then he caught sight of me talking to Yanagi and I guess he figured who I was, because when I came back from… well what I was doing with Yanagi," he threw a sideway glance at Sanada. "He said he was going to tell you who I was. And I really didn't want you to know. Because I kind of liked you, even if you were a bunch of weaklings compared to my previous companions. Or maybe I liked you because of that, who knows." He shrugged, grin still wide.

"What happened?" Marui yelled again, took a step forward and would have probably tried to shake the truth out of Akaya if Niou hadn't pulled him back.

"I didn't want you to know," Akaya continued as if Marui hadn't interrupted. "I had fun with you and all that fun would've ended if Jackal had told you what he knew about me." He laughed, but the sound was short and not very amused. If it hadn't been for the manic grin Niou would have mistaken it for a sob. But Akaya had never cried, and neither had the Kirihara Niou had heard of. "Of course it wasn't till after I'd killed him that I realised I couldn't go back now."

"You bastard!" Marui screamed but Niou's hold on his collar stopped him from attacking Akaya. Niou pulled Marui back and held him tightly with both arms, not letting go. "We trusted you!" Marui screamed.

Kirihara's grin wasn't as cheerful anymore, if it had ever been. He looked at them with seriousness that had never been present in him and his smile was almost regretful. "You shouldn't trust," he whispered. "You shouldn't try to act like you were still human."

"You can't exist without feelings," Niou told him, holding Marui, who was now shaking with grief, rather than fury. "What point is living forever, if you can't be with the people you love?"

"You're so obsessed with that word," Kirihara snarled and looked at the people he'd come with. "All of you. Love, love, love! What fucking good is it to anyone? It won't keep you alive and it don't fucking bring you happiness!"

His bitterness, that seemed so violent and almost like a living thing to Niou, didn't seem to have much effect on the three Kirihara was staring with. Sanada's face might have been made of stone and Atobe regarded the furious dark haired boy beside him with aloofness that lacked empathy of any kind. But the third man, the one whose name Niou hadn't heard, refused to even look at Kirihara. His eyes sought out Niou's and held them. There was pain, the kind Niou knew, remembered suffering through when he'd first realised that he could never again see his family, that he'd lost them and the anguish and desperation he'd felt when he'd known that Jackal and Akaya wouldn't return.

"Yanagi," Atobe spoke the name, shattering the silence, and Niou tore his attention from the smiling man's pained, blue eyes.

"Was the one who told me to dump the bodies, yeah," Niou didn't try to dance around the issue any longer.

"And how do you know it was Yanagi?" asked the still nameless one. "Did he perhaps introduce himself?"

"He did, in fact." Niou felt a little more sure of himself now.

"And his motive?" Atobe asked but his voice revealed he wasn't expecting Niou to know it.

"I want something" Niou said and looked at Marui and Yagyuu. "They get to leave. Safely, unharmed."

"No demands for your own protection?" Atobe raised an eyebrow. "How selfless and stupid." Atobe laughed lifting his chin. "Your demands have been heard and disregarded. The human must die."

"Yagyuu Hiroshi is dead," Yagyuu said, in a voice that lacked the fear Niou could smell on him. "You have no reason to kill us. But it might be beneficial for you to let us live. We would owe you."

"Why would I need favours from the likes of you?" Atobe demanded, shifting easily to negotiate with Yagyuu. "Your death makes you useless to me. And neither of your companions holds any strength that would be useful to me."

"It might not always be so," Yagyuu answered. "In any case, you have more to gain from letting us live than from killing us."

Atobe tilted his head and remained silent. When he spoke again, his eyes were resting on the fire that was no longer spreading, but was still large enough to make him squint. "If you can tell me why Yanagi is doing this…" he raised his hand to his forehead, and looked at Niou. "I'll let you leave Tokyo."

Niou couldn't help the glance he threw at Kirihara, who kept his scowling face directed at the ground. A part of him still wanted to reach out to the kid he'd known, despite what he knew now. He wanted the past back, wanted Akaya to come with them. But Akaya was gone, and in his place stood a monster that had killed his friend, his brother.

Yagyuu's hand landing on his arm gave Niou the strength to tear his eyes away and push past the ache that losing his family for the second time, only moments after he'd thought he'd gained it back, caused. Kirihara was lost to him, and he needed to protect those that were left.

"Yanagi isn't alone," Niou finally said. "He's following someone's orders."

"Yanagi, acting on someone's behalf?" Kirihara threw his head back and laughed. "You're not going to save yourself by lying."

Atobe turned to Kirihara and regarded him with suspicion. "Something you wish to tell me, Kirihara?" he asked softly.

Kirihara bared his teeth and growled. "Had nothing to do with any of this, you asshole, and you know it."

"It's a little too convenient how you manage to be just where you need, to get yourself involved in all of this," Atobe answered.

"I've been following you, not trailing after Yanagi," Kirihara snarled, his lips twitching with rage. He was quickly losing the small control he had over his temperament, but before he could act on it, the man that had held Yagyuu by his throat walked up to him and turned to face Atobe.

"It isn't Kirihara you need to be worried about," he said.

"And how would you know this, Fuji?" Atobe asked. "Unless you're the one who's been-"

"You're being paranoid!" Fuji yelled, his eyes flashing. "Just stop and think for a moment! This is not Yanagi. He is subtle, not rash, and all of this, the bodies, involving the authorities, it's too reckless."

"So what are you saying?" Atobe's voice had become quieter, but no less heated and his gaze was set on Fuji's face, looking for clues. "Someone is impersonating him? That is impossible, no one but Yanagi could have controlled me so well, so subtly, that until a few moments ago I had no idea of it."

"But even that was reckless and it makes no sense!" Fuji shouted, still glaring at Atobe, his hands fisted in agitation. "The worse that could have happened is that they would have questioned you. Even with someone accusing you of murder, you only need to leave the country, and maybe not even that. They would not be able prove anything!"

Atobe blinked at Fuji's rage, and softened his voice to almost gentle, when he asked, "I'll ask again, what are you saying? You clearly have something on your mind, or you wouldn't be this… distressed."

Fuji seemed to deflate when Atobe's tone became softer and his smile took on a sad, almost desperate twist. "When you left, yesterday," he began, his voice soothing, as if he expected Atobe to react violently at any time. "Yanagi acted... strangely."

"Strangely?" Atobe repeated.

"He… had a temper."

"Yanagi doesn't have a temper," Atobe replied calmly.

"I know." Fuji's lips twitched, as if he were about to smile, but it melted away like ice when placed on boiling water and his lips remained as they were, a sad, solemn line. "That's why I don't think it was Yanagi talking then. It was someone older, with more anger, someone…"

"Impossible," Atobe whispered sharply, with fervour. "It's impossible, you know it."

"No, I don't," Fuji spat, frustrated. "You heard screams, felt pain, saw ashes. That is all! You don't know for certain he's dead! And if he's alive, these occurrences make sense, because if he's alive, he must be insane! And only someone insane would think it a magnificent idea to risk exposing vampires to the humans just so they could cause you a little discomfort!"

"You call taking the boy a little discomfort?" Atobe was screaming too.

"I told you. Insane!" Fuji turned to Niou and pointed. "Ask him! He'll tell you!"

"Is it true?" Sanada's voice, low and menacing, asked and Niou who realised the question was asked of him glanced at Atobe, who was looking at him with something akin to desperation.

Niou licked his lips and looked back at Sanada. "You'll have to tell me what you mean, first," he told them, because no matter how clear it seemed to Atobe and to everyone else what Fuji meant, he still had no clue.

It was Kirihara who spoke, snarling, his teeth bared and eyes nearly bloodshot. "Yukimura! Is it Yukimura?"

Niou chuckled. Couldn't help it. One name and all four of them were shaking like leaves caught in a brutal wind. "He did mention that, yeah." Niou grinned widely when Atobe looked terrified and Sanada froze. "Told me it was what Yukimura wanted, and that I should know better than to try to do anything, that might make him see me in an unfavourable light."

"But you haven't seen him, you don't know it's him, you're lying," Atobe muttered and stalked to him, only to be stopped by Fuji's hand around his arm. But when Atobe turned, it was Sanada's eyes that he sought. "You're happy now, I suppose, that that monster isn't dead like we thought, that he's risen from the grave to torment me. It wasn't enough for him to take everything from me, to make me suffer endlessly for centuries, no, he has to come back from the dead!"

Sanada had no answer for him, and when no one else spoke, Atobe pulled his arm free from Fuji's hold. Without sparing even a glance at anyone, Atobe jumped down from the roof and disappeared amongst the grey smoke that had reached them.

Kirihara followed him almost whimpering, a haunted pain flashing across his features.

* * *

Next chapter - Ryoma


	25. Chapter 25

Beta: Youkai Kisaki

A/N: As promised, Ryoma in this chapter. Also, a flash from the past, but it will be the last one. After this chapter the story's staying in the present.

* * *

Ryoma kicked the metal door with the sole of his bare foot, hoping that the hinges were so rusted that the door would fall down. But the only thing his kick succeeded in doing was create noise and even that wasn't loud. Just a small bump that probably wouldn't even be heard by anyone but him.

Yanagi had dragged him through the city and Ryoma had stumbled all the way through wet and cold asphalt, prowled through gravel and cool crass, trying not to cry when he stepped on a sharp rock and fell on his knees. Yanagi had refused to stop and wait for him to get up and simply dragged him along.

By the time they'd arrived to the garden of a two storied house Ryoma had been exhausted, bruised and bleeding. He'd cut himself on a piece of glass at some point and so he left bloody footprints on the pale cement of the stairs leading up to the front door.

Yanagi had shoved him through the door and continued shoving him in the back every time Ryoma stopped in the narrow corridor to look inside the empty rooms that lacked even curtains. They continued like this, Yanagi giving him a push every time he slowed or turned in the wrong direction. They passed a staircase leading upstairs and Ryoma glanced over his shoulder at Yanagi. He got slapped in the head for it and fell down, knocking himself unconscious against the wall. When he'd woken he'd been inside this small room with no furniture, white stone walls and a metal door with no handle on it. There was a light bulb hanging from the roof, and no windows.

Ryoma banged both his fists against the door and leaned his weight on his arms, pressing them against the door. Like the rest of the room, the door was painted white. Everything in the room was white, the plastic covering on the floor, even the wire that the light bulb hung from. But the light was a golden yellow like the colour of a tennis ball, or the shine on Karupin's fur when the light hit it in the right angle.

He missed home, his own bed, his cat, even his stupid father.

Groaning, Ryoma turned around and slid down with his back pressed against the door. "Let me out!" he screamed at the ceiling. "You fucking bastard, let me go home!"

The door opened and Ryoma fell back and stared up at another white ceiling. When he realised someone must have opened the door, he rolled over to his stomach, pushed up and scrambled away from the door.

He'd expected to see Yanagi but the man standing in the doorway was someone he'd never seen. The pale skin and crimson lips were enough to tell him it was another vampire. The creature looked almost fragile, with delicate features that made it impossible for Ryoma to describe him as anything other than beautiful. He was smiling and it was the most enchanting smile Ryoma had ever seen, but the eyes looking down at Ryoma were the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

There was nothing calm or gentle in them, nothing soft or yielding. Hard, violent anguish turned to madness, sadness that had twisted itself to lust and a hunger to see suffering. And it was all directed at him.

The creature stepped closer and Ryoma crawled back, yet not fast enough. He was caught by his wrists and forced to look deep into those terrifying eyes. And he could not look away; he was lost in the sheer maliciousness of the creature.

The man's mouth did not move, but Ryoma heard his voice resonate in his mind. _"What is it in you that makes you so different? It cannot be your mortality alone? How have you survived, lived?"_

Ryoma didn't have an answer, didn't even understand what had spurred the questions, but the creature sought the answer on his own, playing his memories like scenes from a movie, making his own conclusion and leaving Ryoma to make his own. The time he had thought death was his fate was the one repeated over and over, words Ryoma spoke to Atobe and Fuji played over and over again till they sounded like a broken record.

"_You refuse to die."_

Ryoma's wrists were released and he stumbled back, tripped on the too large jeans and fell on his back. He flinched from the dull pain caused by the hard floor impacting with his bruised body and snapped, "Is that supposed to be some kind of big realisation? What kind of an idiot would just die?"

The creature looked at him like people used to look at him when he was twelve and slammed a twist shot in their face. "You think it's common to find a person like you, with so much hunger and passion just for living?" The creature spoke aloud for the first time, the sound of his voice just as alluring as the creature itself. But the danger, the madness was absent in the tone of his voice. He sounded so kind and gentle that Ryoma would have felt comforted if he had not seen the cruelty and madness, had not felt this _thing,_ rummage through his brain. "There are not many, who do not somewhere in the dark corners of their souls, harbour a wish of oblivion."

The creature leaned forward, brought his face so close that his nose was almost touching Ryoma's. Locking eyes with the boy, he whispered, "And you, you live so much in the present, and so fully it is almost frightening, your desire for life. Any fear you face you challenge and seek a way to make it a strength, instead of a weakness. But boy, do you know how dangerous it is to tempt a vampire by willingly placing your life in their hands?"

"What the hell are you talking about, I haven't-" Ryoma's argument was cut when the man pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him.

"You want the blood that gives you the strength to challenge this terror that the presence of an unnatural monster like me awakens in you. Once you give someone everything you have, there are no guarantees that anything shall be returned." The man's hand no longer prevented Ryoma from speaking, but it was still gently pressed against his mouth. "That is what it means for a vampire, to make a fledgling. With their blood you take them all in you, make them yours and once the blood is changed, return it with a small part of yourself and only a memory of that joining will remain with the maker."

The man pressed the tips of his fingers under Ryoma's jaw, tilted his head up and spoke with his mouth against Ryoma's lips. "Monsters are greedy beings. And you are tempting enough that should he have all of you, he might not wish to part from even a small part of it and I do not believe he wishes to lose you. It is no wonder Atobe refused you both."

"Both?" Ryoma couldn't help but ask. As far as he had known, he was the only one Atobe had ever left alive and to suddenly hear from a stranger that there had been someone else made him ridiculously jealous.

"When Fuji was still human, he was Atobe's little pet," the man replied with a pleased smile. "But like with you, Atobe refused to make him immortal. Fuji found someone else to grant him his wish, and so have you." The smile widened and finally reached his eyes, making them warm and affectionate. "I'll grant you your wish, and give you immortality. I will make you as powerful as he is and then you will destroy him.

"Huh?" Ryoma blinked, shook his head and played the words over again in his mind. He had no real reason to hate Atobe, why would he destroy him? It didn't make any sense. "He's an asshole, but I don't want him dead," Ryoma muttered, for a moment forgetting to worry about the monster facing him.

The man laughed and stroked Ryoma's face gently. "Oh you will hate him, because everything I do to you will be because of him." Before Ryoma could push back the man took a fistful of his hair and pulled hard, making the boy's eyes water from pain. "I don't care what I have to do to you, even if I have to crush you completely and rewrite your personality, in the end you will think of nothing but his destruction. You will come to beg me to let you make him suffer."

Ryoma was trembling, the fond caresses of the man's fingers along his jaw felt more menacing than the painful grip on his hair and he couldn't even keep his voice from shaking when he asked, "Why the hell would you do something like that?"

"Because of love," the man answered in wistful tone, calmly, like it was reasonable to want someone to suffer because of love. "Because I loved him from the very beginning and because he might come to love you."

Then the man kissed him, gently on the corner of his mouth, his fingers still pulling painfully on Ryoma's hair. The next kiss was placed on his lips, with more force and then the teeth bit down. Ryoma felt his warm blood flow from the cut on his lip to his chin, and its salty taste filled his mouth and all he could think of was the glorious creature holding him.

**1793**

**London, England**

After three years, Sanada finally returned to the group of vampires he in the privacy of his own mind called a family. He knew that out of all of them, Kirihara was perhaps the only one to share that sentiment with him. For someone that had been alone at the beginning of his life, to suddenly be part of a group so closely bound together as they… It meant more to him than it did to any of the others.

During the years he had been gone he had not been in contact with the others. Yukimura could have easily reached him with his mind even across oceans, but had never done so. Yanagi was just as capable, but the fact that he had not tried to contact Sanada meant that Yukimura had forbidden it.

Atobe, if he had tried, might have been able to do to same as the others but the power of the mind was not something Atobe appreciated, so he never even tried to test its limits. When he did use them, it was usually on pure instinct and always with more strength than necessary. He had once told a man that irritated him to move aside, and the man had walked with a little sideway-lean ever since.

The reason why Sanada had not initiated contact with either of them was simple. He knew his master, knew Yukimura did not want him to speak with either, wanted him to be completely isolated from the others, to feel alone.

Sanada paused before the front door of the house, closed his eyes, and tried to imagine what or who would welcome him inside. An image of Atobe and his cold eyes turning warm flashed across his mind, quickly chased away by the image of his master. How strange it was, that even the imagined figures he conjured of them always seemed to be in conflict with each other.

Finally, after one of the neighbours still out began to make their way over with a suspicious frown on his face did Sanada step inside.

Kirihara was descending the stairs that led down to the front hall and the moment their eyes met, Sanada's name was shouted loud enough for it to be heard all through out the house, yet only Yanagi appeared.

"You have finally returned." Yanagi brushed past Kirihara and greeted him with a smile. "Yukimura will be pleased when he comes back and sees you."

"He is not here?"

"Out, chasing after Atobe," Kirihara said, waving his hand.

Yanagi frowned at Kirihara, then turned to Sanada and explained. "They go hunting together, if you can call it that. Yukimura stands by and watches when Atobe feeds."

"He's been taking more than five a night," Kirihara told him with an eager grin. "He's even killed a few vampires. Told me the blood's different, thicker."

"Vampires?" Shocked, Sanada looked at Yanagi. "Yukimura has not intervened? If he keeps taking their blood-" Sanada glanced at Kirihara, not sure he wanted reveal what he almost had to the unbalanced younger one.

"Yukimura knows, and does not care," Yanagi answered even if Sanada had not finished. "He's indulging him because of Kabaji."

"Has something happened to Kabaji?"

"Dead," Kirihara said, dragging his finger across his throat and letting his tongue hang from his mouth

"A fever of some kind." Yanagi added to the explanation, knowing Sanada would want to know. "The doctor could do nothing and when he passed it was daylight. But Atobe had brought a priest here so he was not alone."

"How long ago?" Sanada asked.

"Only a few days. The body has already-" Yanagi's words were cut when the front door banged open and Atobe stormed inside, a furious Yukimura behind him screaming.

"No! There is no point in it, it is too foolish to even consider! Listen to me!"

"I will do as I wish!" Atobe swung on his heels and turned his back to the stairs. He was so caught up in his argument with Yukimura that he hadn't even noticed the others. "I owe him more, but this is all I can give!"

"You cannot keep grasping on to what remains of your mortal life. Kabaji was no longer the manservant of the Earl of Atobe, but a human slave to a vampire. Face the realities of your current existence, Atobe, accept that the rules of the mortal world do not bind us! You cannot place his name on the tomb!" Yukimura was just as blind to everything but their argument as was Atobe, his jaw was tense and his eyes flaming. Sanada could tell these same arguments had been repeated over and over again. "Your relatives have not yet abandoned their search for you. Kabaji's disappearance did not go unnoticed and if word of his death reaches them, they will no doubt come in search of you. I will not allow it!"

"You think I would stop if you ordered? You think you could, or any power in this world could prevent me from doing as I wish?" Atobe grinned, turned his head to the side and finally noticed the others. His eyes just as cold as they had been when they parted found Sanada's. Atobe kept his gaze on him, searching; seeking for an answer Sanada could not give when he did not know the question. "With Kabaji's passing, there is no longer anything in this world that is mine, and you have nothing with which to control me with."

When Atobe's attention drifted from him, Yukimura also noticed Sanada."It is good you are back," he spoke with affection, but the sharpness that had filled his voice when he spoke with Atobe returned when he continued. "But you have returned alone, without your newborn fledgling that you saw precious enough to abandon me for."

"Would you have liked me to bring him to you?" Sanada asked and cast a brief glance at Atobe, who had stiffened at the mention of Fuji. "I did not think his presence would be welcomed here, and he likes his own company well enough."

"Not welcome?" Yukimura sounded astonished, his mouth and eyes were wide and round with pretend shock. "Why would he not be, when he is so well loved that not one, but two have abandoned their master in favour of his company."

"I am sorry Yukimura, but I could not leave him when his wounds were still fresh and raw, and I…" he paused. "The pain haunted me as much as it did him. Had I not cured him of it, it would have affected me."

"So his pain, your pain mattered more than mine?" Yukimura's voice rose in anger. "Do you think I did not suffer from your absence? I ached as if I had lost a limb!"

Atobe let out a sound disgust and turned his back on them. He walked towards the stairs, but when he saw that both Yanagi and Kirihara were still standing on them, he changed direction towards the doorway on his right. But instead of stepping through the doorway, he punched his fist through the wall.

"It sickens me you can speak such lies when facing me!" Atobe pulled his fist from the wall and traced his finger along the small cuts on his hand. As he watched, they healed and the furious expression on his face eased slowly, and his voice softened. "You were not suffering, but almost happy. Every time you told me of how miserable Fuji was, and how it tormented Sanada you were smiling, revelling in the anguish the knowledge of their suffering caused me."

"It is you who is lying," Yukimura was quick to turn the accusation against Atobe. "If their pain had been of any significance to you, you would not have abandoned them. Do not try to diminish my genuine longing for Sanada's presence by comparing it to your desire, when the only reason you want him, is because you know it would hurt me not to have him."

Atobe's head snapped up and he growled, fisting his hands, the cuts on his knuckles already healed. "I came back because I feared you would take something else from me if I wouldn't!"

"I wouldn't have minded you staying with them for a little longer," Yukimura responded with a milder, calm tone.

"And have the reminder of what I had lost before me at all times?" Atobe laughed bitterly. "No, I am sure you wouldn't have minded that. But I do not needlessly seek pain."

"No you do not seek it. You would do anything to avoid pain, you cannot bear it. But some things, even though painful are worth feeling. Not all good things are of pleasure alone." Yukimura walked to the other man and only stopped when Atobe stiffened uncomfortably at their closeness. He lifted his hand to let it hover next to Atobe's cheek, and did not remove it even when Atobe revealed his fangs in a growl. "Is that not the reason you have today, like all the other nights before, filled yourself with so much blood that the heat almost radiates of you. You think that drowning yourself in pleasure will erase the ache from your heart, the sorrow you feel because he is gone. But you do him injustice by refusing to feel his loss!"

"It is not because of my grief that I feed of them," Atobe turned his head to the side, farther away from the hand next to his face. His head tilted, he stared at Yukimura with narrowed eyes, looking down at the man that always managed to appear taller, despite the fact that there was not much difference in their heights. "At least, not anymore. I learned soon that no amount of blood would make the grief disappear."

"Then why do you still feed on so many each night?" Yukimura dropped his hand and stepped back so he was no longer staring up when looking at Atobe. "Do you think you can best me in strength by killing of the weakling fledglings of this town? Even if you sought out those that match me in strength and drained them of every single drop of blood, you would not gain enough power to challenge me."

"It is not the power that draws me to their blood." Atobe spoke with amusement, almost grinning. "That is only a side effect, though a favourable one."

"What other purpose could you possible have for wanting their blood, besides power? Why do you lie about something like this, when there is nothing to be gained by falsehood?" Yukimura sounded astonished, and more confused of the reason for the lie, than he was upset over Atobe hunting his own kind so relentlessly.

"It is not a lie," Atobe answered, his grin suddenly crueller. "It is you I am trying to flush out with their blood, not pain."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Yukimura snapped, sounding furious. "I will always be in your blood, nothing can change that! You can fill yourself with the blood of a thousand vampires and still it would be my blood in your veins!"

Atobe's mirth turned to anger, and his growl was filled with fury. "If that is the case, I will simply have to drain myself," he said, and turned his gaze to the person whose interest had risen at the mention of power. He walked around Yukimura and approached the stairs where Kirihara and Yanagi still stood. "Would you like to taste it, Kirihara? My blood." He lifted his arm and turned his palm so that his wrist was facing to Kirihara. "Do you want to know if it tastes sweeter than the blood of a human? Do you want to know how it feels to satisfy your hunger with immortal blood?"

Kirihara leaned against the banister, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth, his gaze transfixed on the pale wrist. He placed both his palms against the banister and jumped over it, landing before Atobe, with one of his knees bent. "Only the wrist? Don't' you trust me?" he asked, grinning wickedly and Atobe laughed.

"Not really," he muttered, still smiling. He tilted his head, and pulled his collar back so his neck was left exposed.

It was all the invitation Kirihara needed, yet despite his normally impetuous nature, he rose up slowly and almost gently placed his hand behind Atobe's head and pulled his neck down against his mouth. He did not bite down at once, but pressed his tongue against the skin. "Still warm," he muttered; voice so low it was almost a purr. "But I can't smell the sweat, can't feel the heart, but I can smell the blood under the skin, I can feel it under my tongue." He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, his other hand coiling around Atobe's waist, pulling the larger man closer to his embrace.

Kirihara did not speak anymore and pressed his lips against the pearly white flesh. He pulled his lips back from over his fangs and bit down, tearing the skin with a feverish desire, seeking the taste of blood and when finally encountering it, losing himself in it.

Affected by Kirihara's vicious and eager assault Atobe stumbled, threw his arms around the smaller frame attached to his neck and fell to his knees, pulling Kirihara with him. He groaned pushed the eager mouth draining him of blood tighter against him.

Sanada rushed to them, pressed his palm against the side of Atobe's face, meeting his eyes. "Stop this," he ordered.

With lips pressed tightly together and eyes narrowed, Atobe shook his head and held more tightly to Kirihara, holding him like a mother would a child.

"Yukimura!" Sanada turned to their master, pleading, but Yukimura had turned his face away and was looking at the ceiling, his fists held tightly to his sides.

Gritting his teeth Sanada stood over the kneeling pair and tried to understand the look of utter satisfaction in Atobe's eyes.

When Atobe's eyelids began to droop down, Sanada knew that if this continued any longer, Atobe's recovery would not be painless. If more was taken, he would suffer until he fed again and depending on how much Kirihara would drain it would take more than a single night for Atobe to regain his strength.

He placed his hand on top of Atobe's head to get his attention, ignored Kirihara's uttered groans of pleasure and said "Stop this now, it is enough. You've made your point."

Atobe bared his teeth and growled at Sanada. "This is not about making a-" he hissed and shut his eyes as a wave of exhaustion flushed over him. When his gaze found Sanada again, it was unfocused. "It is not enough."

"It will never be enough!" Sanada placed his hands between the two and pulled them apart. He flung Kirihara on his back but kept hold of Atobe by keeping his hands on the man's shoulders. "You could do this dozens of times and it would still not change your blood. Your body was transformed by Yukimura's blood it will always remain the same. It will only grow more potent with time, or by other powerful blood. Another's blood, no matter how powerful, cannot alter yours."

Growling, Atobe slapped Sanada's hands off and stood. "You're wrong," he glared down at the still kneeling Sanada. "It's already changed. It began changing when I took your blood in me, but I did not realize it until I took another vampire's life." Atobe smiled grimly. "I was still grieving over Kabaji when I encountered my first vampiric prey, and like a drunken fool I picked a fight with him. His blood spilled out at some point and watching it glisten there, against his unnaturally white, beautiful skin, I wanted to taste it."

"You've taken my blood before," Sanada said and rose up. "How was this time different from that?"

"Because I could kill him," Atobe spoke the words calmly, much less emotions in his tone than there had been when he'd described theevent. "With you, it's always been just a little bit, a drop here and there, and it was never…" he paused, and took his time speaking the rest. "Enough."

"You always were such a greedy child, Atobe, never wanting to share, always wanting it all for yourself." Yukimura sounded bitter and hurt. "But you should know I am just as greedy, and I do not like to share any more than you do."

"I know that," Atobe answered and turned from Sanada to Kirihara who had already risen to his feet. "And that is why I am leaving."

Atobe headed for the front door his footing not as steady or sure as it had been earlier. When he stepped out, Kirihara glanced briefly at Yukimura before rushing after him. After they had both left and only the three old ones remained, Yukimura spoke again, with less bitterness and something similar to hurt in his voice.

"But you're one of the things I want, Atobe Keigo, so I can't let you go." He folded his arms and locked them close to his chest, keeping his gaze from the others, speaking to them, as if he were speaking to himself. "He's always running from me, flinging my words into my face with contempt, returning my love with anger. My warnings are taken as demeaning insults, my assurances of affection as ridicule. Everything I do is twisted and turned upside down by the time it reaches him."

Desperate, is what Yukimura sounded and it had always been so with Atobe. Sanada considered the possibility that they truly were too similar. Both of them greedy and proud, so certain that in this world they stood above others. How could either of them ever accept the other as their master, and submit? Sanada could not see either kneeling before the other, let alone before someone else, yet he knew that between them there was no possibility of a relationship that was something other thanthat of a master and a servant.

"Sanada," Yukimura called out his name quietly.

"Yes, my master?" he answered, for a moment returning them both to past long ago, when they had still relied on formalities. It was no longer necessary to use such titles and formalities, when their meaning was engraved in each gesture and word that passed between them. But what had conspired here tonight and Yukimura's sorrow, radiating from every inch of his body, had made Sanada respond to his master in a way that reminded them both of the nature of their bond, and the passage of the years they'd spent together.

Yukimura smiled fondly, Sanada's attempt of reassurance not lost to him. "I am tired, exhausted. I do not know how long I can bear his refusal, his defiant hatred; the disgust I receive in return for the love I offer." He sighed, looking as tired as he claimed to be**.** "You will make him stay. He will be more inclined to listen if it is you who asks for it." He walked towards the stairs and when passing Sanada, brushed his fingers against his shoulder.

"I will do as you command," Sanada bowed his head and when Yukimura had reached the stairs, he spoke again. "He will never love you. You know that."

"Yes," Yukimura rested his hand on the banister. "But even though it is hate that blazes in his eyes when he looks at me, they are still the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, and I do not want to go a single night without being warmed by their flames." He chuckled and lowered his chin. "To think that I believed he could be broken. I would not love him if he was any different, yet his obstinate refusal to yield pains me." Yukimura turned to Sanada and looked at him with suffering eyes. "His pride and arrogance make it impossible for him to let go of his hate and love me, yet it is because of those qualities that I love him so. If I can only ever receive his anger, then so be it, as long as I have him."

Sanada did not believe him. In Yukimura's eyes he saw a deep longing to be loved by the one person that had always, and always would refuse him.

"If it is what you wish, I will make it so." Sanada replied to his master.

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Atobe staggered down the stairs and along the street, hoping he would at least reach a quiet alley before he fell. Someone took hold of his arm and asked, "Are you alright, sir? Had a bit too much to drink?"

He turned and looked at the young man keeping him up. Not yet old enough to shave, bright eyed and innocent, judging by the concerned expression. But the knife pressing against Atobe's side told another story.

"Why don't you let me help you to a quiet spot where you can rest, eh sir?" The young man grinned when Atobe staggered again and blinked in a drunken way. He tightened his hold and almost dragged Atobe with him. "A nice gentleman like you should be more careful about the company he keeps."

They reached an alley, and the young man flung Atobe against the wall and started searching through his pockets, pressing the knife against his throat. Atobe closed his eyes and pressed his head against the wall, listening to the frantic beat of the young man's heart. He was exited; perhaps worried someone would come and see them. "You won't find much gold on me," Atobe whispered, noting with a tired chuckle that he even sounded drunk.

"What kind of a gentleman walks around with no gold?" the robber asked, irritated and Atobe laughed.

"The kind you should be worried about," Atobe answered, his arms circling the man who in his fright slid the knife across Atobe's neck, slashing across the skin. The blood poured out, making Atobe even weaker and hungrier. Feverishly, he sank his teeth in to the man's neck, the scent and taste of the blood filling him, turning his world crimson, returning some of the strength he had lost.

When the body in his arms stopped moving and the skin turned cold, he let go and leaned against the wall, touching the closing wound on his neck. "Not enough," he whispered as the blood he'd taken circled in his veins, slowly healing the damage caused by the knife and Kirihara's eagerness.

When someone stepped on the alley, Atobe slowly opened his eyes and turned his head. "Come here," he whispered, voice ragged. He extended his arm and cautiously Kirihara crept closer. He took the hand Atobe offered and did not pull back when Atobe pulled the wrist to his mouth and bit down, taking back some of the blood he had given.

When he no longer felt so weak that a gush of wind might knock him down, Atobe released Kirihara's wrist and pushed back from the wall. He wiped his mouth clean with the sleeve of his coat and looked down at the body of the young thief. He kneeled and picked up the man's knife. The blood on the blade looked almost black in the darkness, and its scent was almost intoxicatingly sweet amongst the stench of garbage and waste littering the alley.

"You really are full of it," Kirihara sneered. "Trying to flush out Yukimura, what a load of crap."

"It's not completely untrue" Atobe answered, his voice still unsteady from the earlier weakness. "As much as I do enjoy the rush of power I gain from drinking a vampire's blood, the thought of submitting to Yukimura by asking for some of his, sickens me to the very core."

"But you don't really believe you can erase him from your blood."

"No, I think that's impossible" Atobe answered. "But to have him believe that, even for a second is enough. To see him suffer, is a pleasure almost as great as the one gained from blood." Atobe gripped the knife tighter and slit the robber's throat open. Hopefully the two puncture wounds would be ignored when there was a far more reasonable cause of death in the large, gaping wound.

Kirihara scoffed and stood up. "Are you coming back?" he asked.

"No, I'm going to the graveyard to visit Kabaji."

"He's right you know. Putting his name on the tomb will just gain your relatives' attention."

"And that is precisely why I intend to leave England." Atobe stood, and dropped the knife on the alley's cobble stones.

"He's not going to let you."

"He can't stop me," Atobe spat. "I meant what I said. There is no longer anything I care for that he can use to make me stay. Kabaji's passing marks the end."

Kirihara opened his mouth to argue, but Atobe put up his hand to keep him silent. Fuming, Kirihara glared at Atobe but kept his mouth shut. Finally satisfied that Kirihara would say no more Atobe nodded and turned. When he'd turned a corner, Kirihara scoffed and muttered "Some fucking farewell that was."

He looked down at the body, and grinned. "Tsk. Nobles. Can't do anything right." He squatted down and started going through the corpses pockets. "How does he expect anyone to believe this was a robbery, if he doesn't take anything?" He found a heavy purse and did not even look inside, just weighed it on his palm before pocketing it. A longer search gave him a gold watch and a slim dagger with a leather bound handle.

Finally he stood up and was about to leave, when the coat the man was wearing caught his attention. It was long, black and fairly new. "Needed a new one, anyway" he noted, and stripped the body of the coat and threw it over his shoulders.

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What greeted Atobe in the graveyard was silence, the deep calm of the dead that lay in the blessed ground. Their souls were already at rest, only their bodies still in the mortal world, rotting, becoming a part of the earth. It was something Atobe could admit envying, this deep rest, the sure knowledge every human that believed in God had in their death, that when they passed from this world, in the next they would be in God's kingdom.

He still longed for that, the strength gained from faith. In his life he had not been a good Christian. Murder was a heavy sin, and the murder of your brother even greater. The fact that he had never repented his sins had made him wonder more than once, that perhaps his soul would have been damned even without Yukimura to poison it with his monster's blood.

But the devotion to God he had held onto, even during these years that he had lived as the monster he was, was slowly fading. Little by little he found himself taking on the attitude portrayed by Yukimura, that there was no God, and there was no power in this or the next world that they were accountable for. It frightened him, that vast freedom expressed in that single, heretic thought. If there was no God, then there was no Hell, no judge to condemn them. If that was true, than what kept him from indulging in the most heinous of sins? No guide but his own morals, and Atobe had long since realized they were very flimsy, freely bending themselves to fit whatever it was he desired at the moment.

As long as Kabaji had still been with him, Atobe could pretend to still possess some humanity, some sense of morals that kept him from acting on his cruellest impulses. Kabaji was what had kept him bound to the little cloister he and the other vampires formed. Their charming little pretend family, a pack of blood thirsty vicious animals trapped together, clenching their teeth, itching to tear each other to shreds. With Kabaji there Atobe could pretend with the others that it was a normal existence, their forced bond. With a human in the house, they had all, unconsciously or consciously strived to act civilized instead of like the wild beasts they were. Keeping Kabaji safe had been more important to him than succumbing to a monster's primal instincts.

Yukimura was delusional to think it could continue. It was a miracle that it had endured for so many years. And perhaps it would still endure, if Yukimura would accept the inevitable, that Atobe would not be a part of it. But he would not, Atobe knew.

A cruel smile etched its way onto his lips and Atobe allowed it to remain there. Knowing his appearance was that of a monster, he haunted the graveyard like a demon in search of lost souls, and finally chanced upon the grave that bore the name of his devoted servant.

There was only a name, the date of birth and death inscribed on the tombstone. There were no flowers on it, no sign of a grieving relative or a friend having visited the place. The dirt covering it was still fresh, and Atobe could see the marks left on the ground by the gravediggers' boots and shovel.

Atobe bent on one knee and buried his fingers in the moist soil, bent his head and tried to think of the man buried here. But a presence on the far end of the graveyard stole his thoughts away from his loyal servant, and brought in mind all the delicious pleasures still awaiting him in this world, that to him was a world of blood, rather than flesh.

"One has to wonder," Atobe said, pulling his hand from the dirt and wiping his fingers on his thigh. "If there is a reason beyond the desire that makes us seek their company," he said, voicing his thoughts from earlier. A part of him was curious if Sanada would have an answer for him, or if he was just as confused as he was to as why he had been so fond of both Fuji and Kabaji.

He looked up to be faced with a befuddled stare, and smiled bitterly. "The living," Atobe elaborated and stood up. "If there is something more to it than just the blood."

"If anyone had an answer to that it would be you." Sanada's answer only served to aggravate Atobe, and he turned away with a frown on his face, his gaze once again locked on Kabaji's tombstone. "You are the only one that appreciates mortality, even Fuji-"

"Don't speak of him!" Atobe interrupted, hot anger flashing through him the moment he heard the name. "No point in…" he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the anger he still felt at Fuji. He missed the boy that had spent the silent, peaceful nights with him, and felt betrayed, furious that Fuji had abandoned him, had gone against him. "He made his choice," Atobe whispered and turned to look at Sanada's dark eyes. "Now I want to hear yours."

Sanada was shaking his head even before Atobe finished. "You know I cannot-"

"You have to," Atobe's hand struck out and grasped at Sanada's hair. He pulled Sanada's face down, brushed his fingers against his lips and breathed cold air against Sanada's parted lips. "I've given you all the time I can spare. I won't wait any longer." He stared into Sanada's eyes, unable to give up hope despite knowing now that Sanada would not break free from Yukimura.

Finally he released the other man and walked away from the grave, towards the church. "Why did you return?" he asked. "You could have stayed with Fuji, been the master for once. You could have waited for me. I would have come."

"Why did you stay?" Sanada asked instead of answering. "You are so insistent in your claims of leaving, in your hatred for Yukimura, yet you stayed." There was doubt and suspicion in Sanada's voice, and it made Atobe laugh.

"I stayed…" Atobe pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, a hysterical laughter, much harder and violent than the one he had let out earlier struggling to get out. It twisted his face into something more fitting in a face of a madman, yet it refused to be wiped from his face. "For Kabaji, perhaps. Knowing that I could do nothing if Yukimura decided to take him from me."

He turned to look at Sanada, and when he saw the look in the man's face, he could no longer keep the laugh bottled inside him. "You hoped I stayed for you," he said, a crooked smile stretching his lips.

"Yes," Sanada replied, with no trace of shame or embarrassment.

"I would have," Atobe whispered and moved closer, pressed his lips against Sanada's jaw, and spoke so his cold breath caressed the skin under his lips. "I would have waited for you had you asked, promised me, that you would return for me. If you had only asked, I would have stayed for you."

The words that sounded so sweet, spoken softly against his skin, could only be lies, but lies he wanted to believe, and yearned to hear. "And if I had called you?" Sanada asked, letting himself fall deeper into the web of lies, into a world they could build from empty promises and wows, of declarations that would never be fulfilled.

"Had you only whispered my name into the winds," Atobe breathed against the shell of his ear, nearly pressing his still warm lips against Sanada's cold skin. And when Sanada strained to hear the rest, Atobe moved, backed away from him with his eyes alight with the same pale fire Sanada always found so enthralling.

"Spend the day with me," Atobe invited, gesturing behind him towards the church. "Rest the day with your arms around me, my body pressed against yours, my blood filling your veins and tomorrow," Atobe glanced away, his eyes rising up to look at the sky that would soon be alighted by the rising sun. "We shall think of tomorrow when it comes, but not before."

"But Y-" he got no further, because Atobe's fingers were pressed against his lips, the touch of his still warm skin so enticing on his lips, the fingers only inches from his fangs. How easy it would be to move his head just a little, to slide Atobe's fingers into his mouth, to bite down and have the glory that was Atobe fill him, flood through him, let it take away everything else, have nothing but the blood, but Atobe matter.

Atobe slid his hand so it was cradling Sanada's face, lifted his chin and pressed his open mouth against Sanada's throat. His tongue was near burning, still filled with warm, living blood that circled through out his whole body. "Think not of him, not of anyone but us for tonight," Atobe whispered softly, fingers dancing against his neck and shoulders, pulling demandingly on the strands of his hair. "We deserve one night, one day for ourselves. It has been long, so long Sanada since I have tasted you, since I have had you running through my veins, your strength possessing me."

The desire rose within him and Sanada was unable to protest when Atobe pulled him towards the church, guided him through the graves and along the narrow paths till they reached a secluded, almost unnoticeable wooden door in an alcove at the back of the church.

Atobe pushed the door open and behind it Sanada saw stairs leading down to the catacombs of the church where the wealthy and influential had still been buried not so long ago. Had Atobe lived and died as a mortal, perhaps he too would have had his final resting place under the stones of the church he sought refuse on the night he was turned into this glorious creature that now lead Sanada down towards the darkness that held the scent of dust and stale water.

At the bottom of the steps Atobe turned, released his hold on Sanada's hand and backed himself against the stones. He held out his hand once more and when Sanada did not immediately take it, he grasped the back of his head and pulled Sanada to him in a furious kiss, purposely cutting his tongue on Sanada's fangs, allowing his blood to pool into his mouth, drawing the others tongue and lips to hungrily take all that could be taken from that small cut.

Sanada's fingers coiled around Atobe's arms, pressing with enough force to bruise skin and break bones had his been a mortal body. Yet it still hurt, but Atobe refused to recoil or show any signs of pain. He embraced the pain, welcomed it as a sign of finally having won, holding Sanada under his thrall, his power.

Atobe pulled back, sought Sanada's gaze and smiled, nearly laughed at the dazed look in them. Who would have thought it would only take a few drops of his blood for Sanada to forget his master and to surrender to him?

"We will do this again," Atobe spoke. "I will share myself with you tomorrow, every day and you," his smile widened and he knew he looked just as dazed as Sanada but did not care. This was everything he had wanted and more. Sanada was his, there was no longer a way for that to be undone. "You shall do the same for me. Forever, every day, always. Stay with me, Sanada?"

"Yes," Sanada answered, the taste of blood still heavy and sweet in his mouth, Atobe's power rolling in him, burning in its wake all rational thought, destroying all paths that tied to Yukimura. Like its master, Atobe's power, his blood was jealous of any other influence besides its own and at the moment Sanada would have happily given all Atobe asked of him, no matter the price or consequence. "With you, forever, for eternity."

Sanada raised his hand to cup Atobe's face and felt warm when Atobe pressed a kiss on his palm and whispered, "And no one else."

"None but us," Sanada confirmed. "I will not share you, I cannot, not now that I have tasted you."

Atobe licked his lip slowly, his smile widening with each word Sanada spoke and when he was finished Atobe laughed with wild abandon, joyously, as if he had received the most precious gift in the world and Sanada knew then that it was not his words that had made Atobe so gloriously happy.

Tearing his eyes away from Atobe Sanada looked up to the top of the stairs, not truly surprised to find Yukimura there, framed by the pale blue sky that would soon turn red and gold with the rising sun.

"You… you would leave me?" Yukimura whispered brokenly and his tone was enough to incite another bout of laughter from Atobe. "You would leave me!" Yukimura yelled and took a shaky step backwards; further away form the shadows of the crypt that protected both Sanada and Atobe form the coming light of day.

"Yukimura!" Sanada yelled, intending to follow but Atobe held his arm and pulled him back.

"No Sanada! The sun!" he screamed and pulled Sanada deeper into the darkness.

"Yukimura!" Sanada yelled once more and when the searing pain flashed through his mind he clutched on to Atobe, held him as he listened to the screams of his master as the sun's rays burned away his flesh and turned his bones to dust.

The morning had finally come and with it the blissful oblivion of darkness where he needed not listen to the pained screams of his dying master and to know that the fault was his.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** A much shorter chapter compared to the previous ones. Yet, I still hope you will enjoy it.

Comments, critique etc. welcomed and appreciated.

**Beta:** Youkai Kisaki

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For years, centuries, nothing but darkness and silence had existed in the deep emptiness around him. The distant whispers of humans as they cried out for their loved ones sometimes carried through the emptiness, their sadness and grief filling his heart with sorrow, making him think of those that might mourn for him.

Memories had surfaced then, of deep, dark eyes that looked at him with undying devotion, with emotion that he would have liked to call love, but knew well enough not to name it as such. There was always pain that cut through him when he remembered those eyes, and they were always followed by a memory of another pair of eyes, these ones cold and frozen like ice, full of hatred.

It was the image of those cold eyes that kept him company in the darkness. Desperately he tried to seek for a little glimpse of warmth in their coldness, something to comfort him, but there never was anything but hate and anger in them.

And he grew resentful towards those eyes, knowing he had done nothing to deserve such hateful glances, when all he had ever done was love the one who possessed them. He had fallen in love with the arrogant beauty of that soul and had wanted it for his own. Was it too much to ask for just a little love in return for his own, boundless love, to at least once see something other than hatred in them?

Yet never, not even once did the look in those eyes change, and it drove him nearly mad when they were all he could see. Not even the warm devotion of the dark eyes brought him comfort, when he remembered seeing fire in them, passion that was not directed at him.

Jealousy raged within him like a fire storm, threatening to burn his soul to ashes just as the sun had done to his skin and flesh. The sun had burned deep, leaving only blackened bones to him, and there would have been less had he not crawled into the dark and warm bosom of the earth, into the moist soil of the graveyard that worms and the decaying flesh of humans had turned pliable during the centuries.

As time passed, he felt his body heal, muscles re-forming themselves around bones, of skin growing over them. He let it happen, not caring, content to lie deep in the ground with the hateful eyes as his company. It was enough for him and it would have continued to be so, had he not one day woken hungry, the scent of fresh blood seeping into the ground in which he lay.

The thirst now awakened within him, he crawled through the dirt, through the mud, towards the sweet scent of blood that was life and pleasure to him.

He emerged from the ground, dirt in his mouth and ears, nose and in every crook of his body, roots dangling from his neck and limbs, worms and insects crawling around him. Nothing else mattered now but the intoxicating scent of blood, of the woman lying on the ground, her wrist opened, deep red, luscious liquid that promised him strength and pleasure spilling from the wound, the offering wasted on the soil.

Slowly he crawled towards the woman, his long hair stuck to his face and over his lips like a veil. His lips were drawn back, revealing his fangs, not because he was growling, but because there was not enough flesh on him to cover them. He saw his own image reflected on the woman's terror stricken eyes and hissed. Bulging eyes, grey skin, his head like a skull, and his hands, fingers – once slender, now looked like those of a skeleton.

He growled then, in anger over what had become of him. How long had he laid on the ground, in the dirt of the graveyard, his mind empty of any images besides the eyes? The eyes that had wanted him to suffer and die, to wither away like the dying embers of an abandoned fire.

No longer would he cower before those eyes, accept their anger silently and without complaint. If he could not change the anger in those eyes, he would match it with his own. If he could not receive love, he would return the hatred by ten folds.

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As his feet touched the asphalt Kirihara ran after Atobe who had already reached far past the smoke that had covered every street and alley surrounding the buildings around the hospital.

"Wait the hell up!" he screamed after Atobe, not truly expecting him to stop or even slow down enough so that Kirihara could catch him. So when Atobe stopped, Kirihara nearly ran past him.

"How is it possible?" Atobe asked, his gaze focused up, eyes locked on a skyscraper. "How is he alive!" he screamed, hands fisted so tightly that blood dripped from between his fingers and Kirihara could not help the way his focus was drawn on it.

He licked his lips, tasting the blood in the air and took a shuttering breath of air that only worsened, not eased his fascination with the scent of Atobe's blood. "Atobe," he moaned, dragging out the name with a desperate need in his voice. "Keigo," he added a teasing, playful note to his voice, tilted his head and forced his eyes from the blood and focused on Atobe's face, whose attention was now fully on him, eyes attentive, a slight, cruel smile on his lips.

"Akaya," Atobe spoke, with a similar teasing tone and lifted a hand to his lips, spread his fingers and licked his palm clean from the blood. "Is there," he said, sliding his hand down to his collar, smearing his chin and neck with blood and letting it rest there. He lifted his chin, allowing Kirihara's gaze to easily find his jugular, "something you desire?"

"We'll share," Kirihara said eagerly, like a child gushing over a bright, red ball. "Like old times. Or just…" his whole head twitched and he rolled his shoulders. "Let me… just a…" he laughed wildly and hissed, "just a little taste, Atobe, let me have a little and you can take all you want."

"That's a foolish offer to make," Atobe replied slowly, his voice low, his eyes mere slits. "I never took you for a fool, Akaya."

"Did you just insult me?" Kirihara asked, cocking his head, grin even wider than before.

"Perhaps I was complimenting you," Atobe answered with a small smile, this one slightly less cruel than his earlier smile. "You would more likely take a compliment as an insult, and an insult as a compliment."

"So, which was it?" Kirihara growled, grin being pushed back and taken over by an annoyed growl.

"You may take it as you wish," Atobe answered and Kirihara bared his teeth.

"You…" he growled and grabbed Atobe's wrist. But then his grimace suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a sly smile. "That's fucking clever," he chuckled. "But I'm on to you, and it's not working."

Atobe frowned and attempted to pull his wrist from the other's hold.

"You seem to forget I'm not a kid anymore," Kirihara said. "Sure, I still got a temper problem, but really?" he chuckled. "You can't bait me that easily anymore. It won't work."

"It seemed to be working just fine," Atobe muttered and finally managed to shake Kirihara's hold off himself.

"Well I never could get over my repulsion for arrogant bitches," Kirihara snickered. "And you got a talent for stroking anyone's fur the wrong way." Atobe lifted his chin and raised a questioning eyebrow at Kirihara. "And that was not, a fucking compliment, in case you were wondering."

"I would not have thought it to be, not from your mouth," Atobe answered, one eyebrow still lifted.

Kirihara's snickers only increased, and the grin stretching his lips widened. "You're trying to stop me from saying it," he ruffled his messy hair and allowed the bangs to fall over his eyes. "What's wrong? Why are you scared of hearing it?"

Atobe's lip twitched and his fangs flashed.

"The kid's gone," Kirihara whispered. "You failed. You don't know where he is, do you? And you know Yukimura's got him."

Atobe snarled and turned away, but Kirihara was not finished taunting him. He crept up behind Atobe and lowered his chin on his shoulder, pressed his nose against Atobe's throat, sniffed deeply at the blood Atobe had smeared on his skin, licked at it and moaned. "It'd be just like old times," Kirihara whispered huskily.

"Just like old times, ahn?" Atobe asked, a twisted smile slowly making its way to his lips, a forgotten passion rising within him. "Why not?" he asked the sky, twisted around and pinned Kirihara to his chest, making sure his head did not rise from the crook of his neck.

Kirihara threw his arms around Atobe, pressed the mouth attached to the neck down tighter and laughed, digging his nails into the back of Atobe's neck. He was still laughing when Atobe tore into his neck, but by then he too was lost in the rush of feeling Atobe again, having him, letting someone have him.

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Time, no matter how different the concept was to an almost immortal being like a vampire, changed things. Years made a difference in the way people acted, in the way they thought of each other and acted. Relationships could evolve and change from cold resentment into something almost affectionate, perhaps even passionate, or remain the same.

Sanada's family had not changed, and in the most part neither had the way they treated each other. There was still a cold hatred between Yanagi and Atobe, fondness from Yanagi towards Kirihara and blind devotion towards their master from both Yanagi and Kirihara.

But something had changed between Atobe and Kirihara, and Sanada was once again reminded of their odd relationship and its changes during the decades they had still been together after Yukimura had been burned by the sun and they had all thought him perished.

It had begun when Atobe gave Kirihara a taste of his own blood, the boy's first taste of immortal blood. Since then they had hunted together, and on some nights both had returned with the scent of blood that was not human or animal, glowing with power. They smelled of immortal blood and at times it was not a stranger's blood that flowed in their veins.

"Would you call them lovers?" Yanagi had asked him on one such night when they returned with that same eerie glow, bite marks on their body, bloodlust still burning hungrily in their gazes. "They feed of each other for pleasure, like humans would kiss and copulate."

Some things had changed, and others remained the same.

_What in me has changed?_ Sanada had wondered and watched Atobe push Kirihara on the floor with a delighted, happy laugh. _Nothing, because even now I wish it was because of me he would laugh like that. _

And some part of him now wanted to be the one running after Atobe as he fled from the truths Niou had revealed them, yearned to be the one to follow him and comfort him. But there were others still on the rooftop that needed his attention, things that needed to be taken care of.

He would need to ensure Niou, his human and the other vampire left Tokyo and assure Fuji that Atobe could handle the news of their master, that Kirihara was what he needed now, that they were good for each other.

Something even he had difficulty in believing.


	27. Chapter 27

**Beta: **Youkai Kisaki

**A/N:** Another shorter than usual chapter, yet I find myself utterly… I've got writers block, or, more precisely, Fuji block. I don't know where to go from here! Comments/Reviews/Help?

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Oshitari kept his gaze on the unmoving body of Gakuto as the paramedics wheeled him towards the ambulance, while at the same time attempting to concentrate on the questions the police officer was asking him. It was hard to keep his mind on the questions, important though they were, when all he could think about was Gakuto, remember how his body had crashed on the glass-surface of the table, how he'd just lain there, looking dead while that man… That man had come in and had so carelessly pushed him aside, knocking him unconscious. And Echizen… Who knew what had happened to the boy.

"Oshitari-san," the officer repeated once more and Oshitari forced himself to look away from Gakuto. "You mentioned that there was a boy in your apartment, one of your students?" the man's eyebrow was lifted, and Oshitari heard quite clearly what the man really wanted to know by asking that.

"Yes, one of my students," Oshitari repeated, keeping his voice level and tried not to be insulted by what the man was insinuating. "Echizen Ryoma. Earlier at school he had an altercation with his father and when I came home I found him standing in-front of my building. It was raining heavily and the boy was soaking wet. I invited him in, hoping I could convince him to let me call his parents."

"Echizen Ryoma?" the officer repeated the name and frowned. "Just one moment." He turned and went to speak with some of the other officers and almost immediately one of them took out his phone and called someone. All in the group kept glancing back at Oshitari, and the suspicion in the face of the one that had questioned him, only seemed to increase.

Oshitari brought his hand up to the gauze one of the paramedics had managed to place over his head-wound, before the police had demanded he answer their questions and closed his eyes. He was tired, more than exhausted and just wanted to go to the hospital so he could sit by Gakuto's bed, not listen to a bunch narrow-minded idiots accuse him of trying to seduce an underage student of his, simply because he was in a relationship with his male neighbour.

"Oshitari-san?" a different, yet familiar voice called out his name and Oshitari opened his and saw Inui standing before him, his partner, Oishi and a third unfamiliar man next to him. "We met earlier today, if you remember, at-"

"Yes, yes I remember," Oshitari replied before Inui could re-introduce himself. "I remember you and Oishi-san, Inui-san."

Inui nodded and gestured towards the third man. "And this is Tachibana-san, one of our colleagues. We were informed that you have seen Echizen-kun."

Oshitari swallowed, searching for Gakuto again, but did not find him and the ambulance had already left. Oshitari was completely surrounded by the police and their vehicles. "As I have already informed the other officer, there was nothing-"

"We are not attempting to accuse you of anything, Oshitari-san," the new man, Tachibana intervened before Oshitari could get any further. "The boy's family is frantic, they have not seen the boy since this afternoon and there is some concern that perhaps the boy is involved with some dangerous people. Can you please tell us all you can about this man who attacked you and your friend?"

Oshitari looked from one man to the other, and noticed that none of them was looking at him accusingly. He let out a relieved breath and some of the tension that had been contributing to his headache fled. He hadn't realized how much the police officers suspicions had been affecting him.

"I didn't really get a good look at him," Oshitari answered. "He had dark brown hair, cut to his chin, was perhaps a little more muscular than the average person and strangely enough…" Oshitari frowned when he remembered the next detail. "He had his eyes closed, yet it didn't seem to affect him at all. I had the impression that neither I nor Gakuto even mattered to him. All he was interested in was Echizen-kun."

Inui nodded and began taking things down on his notebook, and Oishi pulled out a sketch from his breast pocket and showed it to Oshitari. "Was this the man?" he asked.

Oshitari looked at the sketch and shook his head. "No, he wasn't as frail as this man. His face was rounder, yet…" Oshitari paused, trying to find the right word that would describe their attacker. "More masculine," he finally concluded. "Who is that?"

Oishi glanced at Tachibana questioningly and after getting a nod, answered. "Fuji. The man we came to ask you about earlier today. If you see him, we would appreciate you contacting us. We believe him to be involved in this also, along with someone called Atobe Keigo."

Oshitari was nodding, his mind reeling with all the information Oishi had told him.

"Echizen-kun," Oshitari said and licked his lips nervously, not sure how to continue. "He really is in trouble isn't he? I've tried to speak to him at school, but he was always so resigned. And Ryuzaki-san, one of his classmates… They had started dating but Echizen-kun broke it off, and I had the impression that he did it on purpose. I believe he was trying to protect her, and that was why he was so reluctant to accept my, or anyone's help."

Inui's lips were pursed together tightly and there was no way of knowing what he was thinking, not when he wore those thick glasses that seemed to reflect nothing but the light of the surrounding streetlamps and Oishi just looked worried. Oshitari was beginning to think he always looked like that.

Oshitari turned to Tachibana hoping the man would give him some kind of answer, even if was only a lie meant to assure him.

"Truthfully, Oshitari-san," Tachibana said, and Oshitari expected the man to say it was none of his business. "You are not the only one that is worried about the boy."

Oshitari closed his eyes when he heard the words, and almost wanted to scream at Tachibana for confirming his fears. "And the man that attacked me and Gakuto? Will he…" He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Tachibana. "Do you think you will ever catch him?"

For a moment it looked like Tachibana was going to answer him honestly, but then one of the other officers came to where they stood and whispered something to him.

"We will do everything within our power, Oshitari-san," Tachibana said when the other officer had left. "Would you like a lift to the hospital where your friend is being treated?"

Numbly, knowing he would get no more answers from any of them, Oshitari nodded and when Tachibana waved one of the uniformed officer and told them to take Oshitari to the hospital, he followed without complaint and silently.

Once he was sitting in the car he looked up at the sky for the first time that night, and noticed the thick, grey smoke. He wondered what had happened, and if the reason behind the smoke was why he and Gakuto hadn't been taken straight to the hospital.

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Yukimura looked down at the unconscious boy, smiling, still revelling in the sweet taste of the boy's blood. It was not just the blood that made him smile, that pleased him. It was also the thought of what Atobe would think and feel, should he know of this, that Yukimura had tasted, had taken something Atobe had claimed as his.

His nostrils flared at the scent of the boy's blood, still lingering in the air of the small room, and a frown suddenly appeared on his forehead. The scent should not be this strong, not from his bite, and not from the small cut he had made on the boy's lips.

Yukimura's eyes narrowed and he kneeled over the boy, long fingered hands hovering over the boy's body, searching and finally pausing over the boy's feet.

His feet were not covered by socks or shoes. They were dirty, bruised and bleeding.

"Yanagi!" Yukimura screamed, his devoted fledgling appearing immediately by his side, bowing low, the perfect image of subservience, despite the fact that he stood over the kneeling Yukimura. "The boy's feet," Yukimura spoke with a chill, sharply. "He is bleeding, he has been bleeding, you allowed him to bleed!"

Yanagi's eyes opened wide and focused on the small feet over which Yukimura's hands hovered. "Master, I am sorry, I-"

"Do not give me any of your pathetic excuses!" Yukimura screamed, stood and lashed out with his arm. Yanagi was thrown against the wall, the white mortar cracking under the weight of his body. "You have left a trail for Atobe to follow! He will be here soon, if he is not here already. We must leave, now. Take the boy!"

Yukimura turned and left the room, expecting Yanagi to follow his orders.

He walked up the stairs from the basement and stopped in the large living room to wait for Yanagi to join him with the boy, trying to calm his raging anger and desire to lash out against Yanagi, who had been foolish enough to fail him.

He kept his gaze on the window that showed the neighbour's house, and the lit window to their kitchen, where a woman was preparing dinner for her family.

He had watched them before, watched the woman prepare dinner. It was always late when she cooked, and she always looked tired and worn out. At times there would be a bruise on her face, and once Yukimura had even seen her husband hit her. Yet he had also seen the woman kissing with a younger man that also lived in the house.

When he heard someone step on the floorboard in the hallway, Yukimura spoke aloud the thought he had teased himself with since the day they had moved into this house. "We should visit the neighbours before we leave, Yanagi. I do not think we should leave without giving thanks for the entertainment I have gained from their lives."

Certain that his face now held an affectionate smile and his eyes glowed with forgiveness for Yanagi's foolish mistake, Yukimura turned, only to be faced with someone completely un-expected. His eyes widened with surprise and he could not speak even a single word, despite how loud the screams, accusations and pleads echoing inside his head were.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **No beta. And short, again. Why is it that the chapters just keep getting shorter the closer I get to the end?

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Fuji lowered his arm and stepped to the edge of the roof, his eyes following after the retreating figures of Atobe and Kirihara, but soon all he could see was the thick smoke that coiled its tendrils around the building and began to rise. Briefly Fuji wondered how the human standing behind him would survive amongst all that smoke and destruction.

Yet what did he care? Live or die, it mattered not to him.

"Fuji," Sanada called out and he turned to look at him and noticed they were alone.

"You let them leave?" Fuji asked. "Was that wise? Letting them go without reprisal, after all, all this," he waved his hand to indicate the destruction that surrounded them. "Is because of them. They are at fault, it is because of Niou that-"

"Atobe," Sanada only spoke the name and remained silent, as if expecting Fuji to somehow react to it. Yet when Fuji remained silent, he spoke more. "You know how he is."

"I know, but I can't help but wish it would be different this time, that he's changed, that I-" Fuji cut his own words and drew in a breath he did not need, feeling the toxic smoke and the ash lingering in the air make its way to his lungs. "It is not just him, they all grow to either hate, fear or despise me, everyone I love. They all run from me."

"He did not think of you."

Fuji tried to laugh, but somehow the sound that escaped him was more like the cry of a wounded animal than anything else. "You think that makes it all the better?" Fuji asked. "That I never even entered his mind, that he would rather be alone than accept my comfort?"

Fuji looked at Sanada, expecting to find his face the same as always, stoic and unmoved by the anguish and pain of others, uncaring of anyone, least of all Fuji, the vampire he had made at his master's bidding. Yet in the dark pools that were Sanada's eyes, that always reminded Fuji of the well in his hometown, there was compassion, such endless compassion and understanding for his pain that Fuji found it almost impossible to believe in, and found impossible to look at.

He turned away and fixed his gaze on the thick smoke that was slowly clearing, allowing him to see that the fire was finally beginning to die, and that the destruction was not as wide spread as he had believed. The explosion, the shock of it even occurring had made it seem bigger, but it was only the hospital and the few buildings surrounding it that had been affected.

"We should go," Sanada said. "Yukimura, he…"

"You know how to find him?" Fuji asked, surprised, and kept his eyes still diverted from Sanada's face. He did not wish to see if there would be more surprises to be found in Sanada's eyes.

"I have always been able to find my master," Sanada answered and Fuji smiled bitterly. The words were almost the same as those he had spoken to Atobe when he had asked how Fuji knew Sanada would come, on the night he had found Ryoma again.

"The boy," Fuji began, and the hesitated. "You think it is possible that we could still, that he is…" he could not continue, even thinking of something happening to the boy frightened Fuji.

"You ask it because of Atobe?"

"Not only for him," Fuji answered. "The boy, he deserves more than to be the plaything of monsters."

Sanada's deep laugh, something completely unexpected finally made Fuji turn around and face his maker.

"The same could have been said of you, Fuji," Sanada spoke and took Fuji's face between his hands. "But we monsters, we do not care much for the feelings of our toys."

"You speak such cruel words," Fuji replied and placed his own hands above Sanada's. "Why is it then that I see such sadness on your face?"

Sanada did not reply, and soon released Fuji's face, only to pull him into an embrace, holding him tightly, as if one would hold a child or a sibling when it was the only way to convey your affection, when you could not find the words.

There was no warmth on Sanada's skin, no heartbeat you could listen, not even the sound of breathing, nothing that even resembled the embraces that Fuji's parents and sister had given him when the world had still been filled with sunlight and love, not endless pain and anguish, yet it brought him comfort in ways no other embrace ever had. Perhaps it was because he had only ached without any comfort since being turned into a vampire, and when alive, there had been no real suffering in his life, only the worries of a human, that paled in comparison to those of an immortal.

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It was just a whisper to his ears, faint and far away, but even as he revelled in the taste of Kirihara's blood, his fingers buried in the other vampire's silky smooth hair he heard it, his name spoken, followed by yet another voice speaking the name Echizen, with desperation and worry deeply ingrained to it.

He tore Kirihara from his neck, pushed him away and hurried towards the voices, soon seeing the blue blinking lights of the police-cars and an ambulance passed him. A crowd of on-lookers had gathered around and Atobe soon found the man that had spoken his name, his gaze locking onto the sketch of Fuji the man was holding. He recognized the man and the one standing beside him, yet the third police officer by their side was unfamiliar, as was the man now speaking.

Atobe moved closer to them, yet stayed away from their line of sight, knowing that if they had an accurate sketch of Fuji, they would be able to recognise him.

"Atobe," Kirihara's annoyed hiss sounded from behind him, but Atobe paid no attention to the brat, his whole attention focused on hearing every single word and nuance in the voice of the of the man's, Oshitari's account on what had happened. "What the hell was so important that you had to-"

Atobe glanced at Kirihara when he stopped speaking, and noticed that he too had seen the sketch.

"Shit, fuck, hell, fucking hell, fuck you and the fucking-"

"Shut up," Atobe ordered, and waved his hand towards the police officers. "Just shut up and listen," he said, but the men were already done and Oshitari was being escorted to a police car.

"We have to get that sketch away from them," Kirihara said.

"There's no point," Atobe stated, his eyes narrowed on Oshitari as he walked towards the car. For a fraction of a second their eyes connected and Atobe saw and experienced what Oshitari had, a red-head flying through the air and landing on the table, then a glimpse of the boy, then Yanagi, pain and then nothing until he woke and found a paramedic leaning over him, his thoughts revolving around the red-head. "They know his, and my name, taking that sketch would mean nothing."

"We have to do something," Kirihara snarled and made a move to ran towards the officer, Oishi. Atobe grabbed his arm and held him back easily. He had not lost any of his strength, un-like Kirihara who had freely given everything to Atobe without any reservations. Still foolish and rash, as he had always been. Impulsive and never taking the future, the next moment into consideration in his actions, so very unlike Atobe, who never forgot.

"Yanagi was here," Atobe said and it was enough to stay Kirihara. "He took the boy."

"And that's all that matters to you?" Kirihara asked, frowning. "Leave it. Let him have the damn kid!" he screamed, managing to gain attention from the police officers still there, and Atobe quickly turned his back to them and released his hold in Kirihara's arm.

He began to make his way through the crowd and left Kirihara where he was, hoping that would be enough to dissuade the police's interest, that no one had seen him. He could not afford their interest, especially not now when he needed to find them, Yanagi, the boy and…

Atobe shook his head, refused to allow himself to even think of the name. For so many years he had thought him dead, had been happy, content, elated when he remembered that agonizing scream, the scorching heat and intense pain he had felt projected into his mind and finally the blessed absence of a presence that had always haunted and pressured him. He had been free, they had all been. Why it was only him that saw it as a blessing, Atobe had never understood.

Finally away from the crowd Atobe glanced around the street and noticed one of the police officers that wore uniforms kneeling on the street, his eyes intent on something on the ground. The officer pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket and with it covering his hand picked up a shard of glass that's edge was tinted crimson.

In a flash Atobe was standing over him, the shard of glass in his hand and the man unconscious on the ground. He spared no glance towards the worried and angry shouts of the man's companions, his attention fixed on the blood decorating the clear glass. Even dried and mixed with the other smells on the glass, alcohol and something sweet and sugary, he recognised the scent of the boy's blood.

He smiled and placed the shard and the plastic bag in his pocket, eyes already searching for the next red stain on the dark asphalt, something that would be impossible if he were still human, what would take the police hours, if not days to find. A bread crumb trail that led to the evil witch's house where little Hansel was kept.


End file.
